


Family Values

by FancyFree2813



Series: Layers (originally named The Goofy Mountie Series [22]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen or Pre-Slash, Minor Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, mention of non consensual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyFree2813/pseuds/FancyFree2813
Summary: A prison break; an international manhunt; a flight through 5 provinces and 6 states; a young woman beaten within an inch of her life, Mounties and cops in peril and an execution written in Quebecois. A break-up; a reunion of kindred spirits; a final farewell. Oh, and a baby shower with a hockey stick, a riding habit and a Winnie the Pooh cake.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Margaret Thatcher, Ray Kowalski/Other, Ray Vecchio/Other, Renfield Turnbull/Kerri
Series: Layers (originally named The Goofy Mountie Series [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954873





	Family Values

**Author's Note:**

> Danny ‘The Bull’ Brock, Laurier and McGill are original DS characters from the episode The Man Who Knew Too Little. René and Norman are first names I created for Laurier and McGill. I originally created the character of René in answer to the Turnbull’s Evil Twin Challenge and he sort of took over. Even though Laurier is long dead, the evil lives on.
> 
> I wrote this awhile back and when I reread it before posting here I realized it was a little too mean so I toned it down a bit. If you might have read it before you may notice a difference, but it's is still the same story with the same outcome. Be warned that Norman especially has a truly potty mouth and there is a lot of that type of language in certain chapters.
> 
> If you read Quebecois I apologize in advance if any of the wording is incorrect.

Chapter 1

Pierre Levesque knew that it was time. Months of preparation had now brought him here – here being the point of no return. He was relieved that the preparations and waiting were over, but although he would never admit it, scared to death of what would happen next.

When the Family contacted him, months ago, he had been thrilled to think that the son of a green grocer would become a critical link in their plan. Green grocer, ha! Glorified delivery boy was more like it. It was his father who had been so proud of the fact that he had built the family farm into a thriving produce business, to the point that des Légumes Levesque had become the sole supplier of vegetables for Donnacona Institution. His father may have loved it, but Pierre hated his family business. He hated radishes, carrots, lettuce, parsnips and the rest. Sometimes he thought that if he looked at one more red, orange, green or yellow vegetable he might just puke.

Growing up the son of Christophe Levesque – the Vegetable Man – was demeaning enough, but since Christophe had suffered a stroke and Pierre was forced to take over the business, he had just about bankrupted them. It wasn’t just because of his gambling, although that certainly contributed to the financial problems, but as he became less and less reliable he lost one account after another. He was within a heartbeat of losing the Donnacona prison account when the Richelieu Family contacted him.

It was probably a good thing that Pierre liked the idea of making enough ‘lettuce’ (as he had heard the Americans refer to their money) to never again have to worry about actually selling the kind that grew in the ground. It was a good thing because the Family’s requests were only requests in the broadest definition of the word. Rarely were their ‘requests’ declined, and never if one wanted to live to tell about it. But the thought of declining never occurred to him. Pierre enthusiastically agreed to become an integral component of the Family’s plan.

And so here he was, all these months later, waiting nervously in the early morning darkness, to make his last delivery to Donnacona Institution. He smiled at the thought, his last delivery but his first, and only, pickup.

Months ago, Pierre was told to start making occasional trips from his home in Notre-Dame-de-Portneuf to the vegetable market at the port in Quebec City. To lend credence to his cover story, a restaurant in Cap-Rouge owned by the Family became Levesque Produce’s first new customer in a very long time. Ostensibly to purchase exotic Asian produce for this new and very demanding customer, Pierre also used distance and time away from prying eyes to visit the home of a lady of indeterminate reputation. While Pierre was inside, the lady of the house occupying his body, his produce truck’s body was also occupied - in a fully equipped shop in the garage behind the house - receiving a series of modifications. The Family’s plan was simple, if anyone cared enough to look closely at Pierre’s movements, all they would see was a man who was cheating on his wife and trying to hide the fact by parking his truck in the lady’s garage.

Pierre stood in the darkness next to the truck and thought about the changes over the last several months, both to the truck and to himself. In just a few hours, he would collect enough money to enable him to leave his drag of a farm, his dump of a house and his bitch of a wife. He’d miss his son, he guessed. Michel had finally gotten to an age where he was almost tolerable. If Pierre had been so inclined, he might have taken the boy fishing or skiing or something. But he was not so inclined. The baby, Paulette, was a brat. All she ever did was cry, and whenever Pierre came near she’d cry even harder. He supposed it had something to do with the time he’d smacked her and then had to hit Sophie when she’d tried to protect her baby. Pretty much all he got from Sophie these days was a headache, and all he gave her in return was the back of his hand. She’d stopped putting out right after Paulette was born which gave him yet another reason to look for entertainment elsewhere. 

With his father bound to that damn bed upstairs, home was nothing more than a hassle to him these days. Who could blame him for turning to the soft arms of Rhonda? Of course she only considered the unattractive, pudgy, middle aged man an assignment as the truck was being modified, but Pierre had chosen to ignore that minor point. Now he was seriously considering asking her to come with him. To where he had no idea, but it would be some place warm, with vegetables nowhere in sight. 

He had to hope that the changes to the truck were just as seamless as he knew the changes in him to be. He smiled as he patted the side of his ‘improved’ veggie mobile. The guys in the garage, he rarely ever saw them and never did know any of their names, had installed a false wall of sheet metal running the entire width of the cargo area. It sat back from the real exterior wall at the nose of the box, just far enough to cover a newly installed trap door in the bed. Hopefully, the new compartment was not so wide as to be detectable, but wide enough to conceal a 91kg man.  
____________________________________

Norman McGill also knew that it was time. And about damn time, too. All the years spent in this hellhole were just about to come to an end.

He’d been planning this for over a year. He remembered the day as if it were yesterday – December 6th – the day he’d waited a whole year for. The day of his parole hearing. They’d paid off everyone they could touch, and threatened everyone who couldn’t be bought, but in the end it hadn’t worked. No parole. He remembered the day as if it were yesterday – they’d told him that even though he had been a model prisoner, his crimes were too heinous to allow him to end his sentence early.

Didn’t they know just how long twenty years was? Didn’t they know that he had things to do and places to go? Didn’t they know his Family was going to screw things up if he wasn’t able to exert his full influence over them? Didn’t they know that no matter what he had done, he was above these surroundings and the pigs who ran the place? Their fate and his were sealed that day. Not five minutes after he left the hearing room he was mentally putting his plan into place. His days of being a model prisoner were about to end – at the very same time as his incarceration. There was a lot of work to be done, but he’d be damned if they’d keep him in here much longer.

Actually, he’d formulated the plans, but it had been up to his Family to do the legwork. They’d kept him apprised of their progress, of course, he was the boss. But their progress was far too slow for Norman. He knew that they had to move slowly so as not to raise suspicion, but damn, it had taken a long time to get to this point. He planned to have a nice friendly family chat with his subordinates once he was safely ensconced in… Well, that would probably have to wait until his obligations were fulfilled.

Family obligations. He’d spent many an hour sitting alone in his cell thinking about both family and Family obligations. Now he had an objective that fit both criteria. His step-brother had been murdered. Oh, the fact that René was dead meant less than nothing to Norman. He’d hated Marie’s son, but René was Family, and Norman was nothing if not loyal to the Richelieu Family. Avenging René’s death had become his driving force from the moment he’d been informed, and the primary reason he was so pissed at the rest of the Family for letting the plans for his escape take so damn long. It was his job to avenge the killing of a Family member and nothing could be done until he was out.

Norman felt ill every time he thought of the day Marie and the little shit had come to live with him and Danny. René was about five years younger, but it hadn’t taken Norman long to realize that not only was the six year old boy borderline psychotic, but it wasn’t going to be long before the little twerp was much taller and heavier than him. Even at twelve Norman knew that he would never be much beyond average in height and weight, if that.

And he’d been right. René was barely nine when, for no apparent reason, he beat the shit out of Norman. And Danny had laughed. Danny may not have been his natural father either, but Norman felt he owned all the ‘father’ rights to Danny. Norman had been there first, after all. But Danny had laughed himself silly and patted René on the back for beating up his other son. Norman had never forgotten and never forgiven either of them. 

Norman spent as little time as possible with Danny or René after that. They had gone to the US as a family, looking for Ian Mac Donald, but all that had gotten them was arrested. Their lawyer got them off, but they hadn’t even been able to celebrate their freedom without fighting.

But family was different than Family, and no one knew the difference better than Norman. Sure, René had killed both family and Family when he beat Danny to death with that baseball bat. But Danny was beating Marie and both sons had tried to stop it. Not that they didn’t believe Marie deserved whatever she got, but Danny was about to kill her, and that couldn’t happen, at least not in their own home. So both sons had tried to intervene. But Norman was too small to stop the raging bull who was his father. In the end it was René’s size that got the best of Danny. Norman never did know if René had actually intended to kill their father, but whatever René’s intentions, Danny ended up dead. And Norman was the one who had to clean up the mess and hide the body from the cops, Marie having taken her son and run for her life.

Norman had seen little of Marie or the formerly ‘little’ shit who was her son after that. There was very little binding them as a family before Danny’s death, and nothing binding them after he died. René was never charged with Danny’s killing, though the Provincial Police had their suspicions. What finally did get him was a conviction for rape, but even then Norman never saw him. René was locked up in Ontario and when Norman was finally arrested and convicted for arms smuggling, he was sent to Donnacona, a whole Province away. Norman didn’t even hear about his stepbrother again until just after René escaped. And not again until he was murdered. 

Sitting in his cell now, Norman laughed out loud. His step-brother was killed by his own natural brother. Now that was ironic. To think that there were two of them, identical twin brothers, made Norman shudder, but the other one, the murderer, was a Mountie. Now that was really ironic. He supposed that he should find the Mountie and buy him a drink for ridding the world of René – the psychotic shit. But his Family obligations did not allow for that. What they did allow for, what they required, was that he find the Mountie, but not to thank him. Family obligations required that Norman find the Mountie and kill him.

____________________________________

Chapter 2

Renfield knew that it was time. He smiled as he watched his shaky hand attempting to punch the numbers. Why in heaven’s name was he nervous? Inviting his friends over should be as easy as pie, right? He heard a tiny whimper behind him and his smile deepened.

He chuckled aloud at the thought that he was a new father and had every right to be nervous.

“What’s so funny?” Kerri asked as she came up quietly behind him. “Have you called them yet?”

“I know it’s silly, but I’m nervous! Isn’t that silly?”

“Renny, nothing you do is silly. I’m nervous too.” She looked at the very tiny bundle in her arms and sighed deeply. “We’ve got a beautiful new daughter and we want everyone to love her just as much as we do.” Her head snapped up. “And they will! Of course they will, what are we so concerned about?” She reached up and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Make the calls! Everyone needs to meet her.”

Now more excited than nervous, Renfield first called Inspector Thatcher, then Ray Vecchio and last, but certainly not least, he called his best friend, Ray Kowalski.

He guessed he saved Ray for last because Ray’s reaction concerned him the most. Ray had a very special relationship with Renfield and Kerri and Renfield was just a little apprehensive about how Ray would react to an introduction of a baby into the mix.

When he knew he couldn’t wait any longer, he placed the call to Ray.

‘This’d better damn well be important! Taday’s my day off, ya know!” Ray yelled into his infernal cell phone that had the nerve to ring so early in the morning.

“Good morning Ray, this is –”

“I know who ya are, Turnbull, I just wanna know why the heck yer callin’ at this ungodly hour – when I was sleepin’ so good!”

“I apologize Ray, but it’s well past 9 am. We assumed –”

A little more awake than a moment ago, Ray suddenly became contrite. His friends had just returned from their much belated honeymoon, after all, and he really was glad to hear Turnbull’s voice. “Sorry man, late night stakeout.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the fist not occupied with holding the phone to his ear. “Have a _nice_ honeymoon?”

Renfield completely missed Ray’s sexual innuendo as he continued. “Oh, yes! The scenery was beautiful, but we’d like you to come over here as soon as possible. We, uh, well that is, we have a –”

Scenery? Man, he really had to talk to this guy. Who looked at scenery on a honeymoon? Ray could hear Kerri giggling in the background, saying something about a surprise. “Ya got a surprise for me?”

Renfield was slightly taken aback by the anticipation in Ray’s voice. “Well, not exactly for you, but it is a surprise. One I hope all of you will be pleased about. Could you come over right now? Please?”

“All a us?”

“Yes, Constable Fraser and Inspector Thatcher are on their way now. Please, hurry?”

Ray felt like laughing. Whatever the surprise was it certainly had Turnbull in a sweat. “On my way, Buddy!”

Turnbull was letting Fraser and Meg into the closed bookshop as Ray pulled his GTO up to the curb. Two cars ahead of him he could see Vecchio’s Riviera already parked. Ray wondered briefly what could be so earth shaking that Turnbull would have called everyone here at this hour, until he remembered that it was almost 10am.

“Hold up there!” he shouted as he rushed toward the door that was about to close in his face. “Geez, didn’t ya see me comin’?”

“Sorry Ray, I guess I’m a little preoccupied.” Renfield snickered and all present saw the old befuddled, slightly clueless look they had hoped to never see again pass through Turnbull’s eyes. “It’s the surprise, it’s, uh she’s just got me a little,” Turnbull giggled as he searched for the right word, “a little, well just come see!”

“She who?” Meg whispered to Fraser as they all ascended the stairs.

“What the heck’s got his shorts in a knot?” Vecchio asked Kowalski as they followed Meg and Fraser.

Kowalski just shrugged. He’d long ago given up trying to figure out anything about Turnbull.

By the time the small group of people reached the top of the stairs, Turnbull was glowing. Glowing enough that he practically lit up the darkened stairwell. Fraser was about to question him when all eyes turned to Kerri, who was standing motionless in the center of their living room.

“Kerri, what –?” Meg breathed, as they all stood, transfixed at the top of the stairs.

If it were humanly possible for one human being to outshine Turnbull, Kerri had done it. None of the others could take their eyes off her, the happiness just surrounded her like an aura.

The first time he’d ever seen her, Ray thought that Kerri looked like an angel, now he was sure of it. He half expected to see wings behind her, until he, and the rest of the small group noticed what she was holding.

“Kerri?”

Kerri beamed at their friends. “She’s ours,” she whispered. “Renny and I have a baby.”

Renfield moved to Kerri’s side and put his arm around her shoulders. “Meet Mary Elizabeth,” he grinned, “my, uh, our daughter!”

____________________________________

Ray watched as everyone gathered around Renfield, Kerri and the baby. Even though he was included in the happy group he felt strangely detached, as if he were no longer important to them. He realized that was stupid, that these were the best friends a man could ask for, but yet he sensed he was suddenly without a purpose.

He'd vowed a long time ago to watch over Turnbull and Kerri, to be their protector. But he could tell that they would never again need him to be their champion, they had moved on to a new point in their lives, a point where they were now the protectors. Protectors of that tiny thing wrapped in the pink blanket.

Ray wanted to see her, this tiny life named Mary Elizabeth, but with five people crowded around, there was just no room for him. He smiled as he sat down on the couch. There’d be plenty of time for him to see her later.

When Meg, Fraser, Vecchio and Turnbull fell into a conversation about adoption legalities, Kerri sneaked away and brought her precious bundle to Ray. 

“Yer both lookin’ pretty goofy again,” Ray smiled as Kerri sat down next to him.

Smiling in Renfield’s direction she had to agree. “He’s very happy.” In fact she didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite like this and it thrilled her.

Ray grinned at her. “Oh, ‘n like yer not?”

Kerri grinned right back and chuckled. “She does seem to have that effect on people. Would you like to hold her…Uncle Ray?”

Ray held up both hands in horror. “Me? Nope, no way! I’ll break her or sumpthin’.”

Kerri held Mary Elizabeth toward him. “She’s not going to break," she said gently. “Just support her head and, that’s it, put your other hand under her bottom. You’ve got it. See that’s not so hard is it?”

Ray grinned first at Kerri and then at the tiny, sleeping child as he pulled her to his chest. It was at that precise moment that he lost his heart. It was also at that precise moment he knew that he still had someone to protect. His sense of belonging returned one hundred fold. “She’s so little. I’ve never seen a baby this small. She’s not any bigger than a football.”

Kerri chuckled softly. “You’d better not be trying to throw her anywhere.”

Ray’s head snapped up in surprise. “I'd never do –”

“–of course you wouldn’t. You’ll always be her protector.” Kerri smiled softly at him. “That’s why Renfield and I would like for you to be her godfather.”

Ray looked at her with wide eyes. “I can’t do that, she’s too little! She needs someone like Vecchio who’s used ta bein’ around babies n kids ‘n stuff.”

Kerri sighed as she smiled at him. “Ray, you’ve watched out for Renfield since before I met him. You’ve stood by both of us through some pretty trying times. You’ve ranted and raved when we were doing something you knew wasn’t right, you’ve been there I don’t know how many times with a shoulder to cry on or a strong hand to lend us. There is no one on the face of this earth that either one of us trusts with our daughter’s wellbeing as much as you.” Kerri nudged his shoulder with hers. “Just as long as you don't treat her like a football,” she chuckled.

Ray smiled at the tiny child wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. Turnbull and Kerri might not need a guardian any more, but this sweet little thing sure did. And he’d be the best damned guardian any little girl ever had.

“If anything ever happens to Renfield and me, you’ve got to promise that you will look after her,” Kerri said in all seriousness.

The mere thought that something might take Kerri and Turnbull away from him worried Ray beyond words. All he could think of to say was, “Ya got my word.” 

____________________________________

Sometime later, Ray wandered down the hall and found Mary Elizabeth sleeping in what would soon become her nursery. Renfield had laid her carefully in the middle of the bed and raised the edges of the mattress with pillows. 

Ray knelt next to her and watched the tiny little girl sleeping. He’d heard Vecchio make some smart remark about her being smaller that some newborns and Turnbull say something about low birth weight. Well, she might be tiny, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone say another derogatory word about his goddaughter!

He ran his index finger over her little fist and smiled as she wrapped her fingers over it. “Ya got me wrapped around yer little finger too,” he cooed at her. “Ya may have started out yer life on the wrong foot, but ya got a whole bunch a people gonna make sure it doesn’t stay that way. I don’t know if ya know it yet, but ya got the world’s best folks. I can tell just by lookin’ at him that there’s nothin’ yer daddy wouldn’t do for you, ‘n yer momma, well, she’s just the best. You’ll be safe ‘n loved ‘n have a whole bunch a cops just eatin’ outta yer hand,” he whispered, looking at the size of her hand compared to his. “Well, that might not be sayin’ much now, but ya just wait. You’ll see what I mean. But ya’d better not be bringin’ no scruffy boys around here when yer seventeen, ‘cause they won’t have ta worry ‘bout Turnbull, they’ll have ta get through me!” 

“Yeah right, and you’ll be what, an old codger?” Vecchio whispered from his position leaning against the doorframe.

“Lay off!” Ray whispered right back at him.

“Hey! I’m just kidding. I know what it’s like to have the little critters around. You can play catch with the boys, but the girls just make you kinda mushy inside.”

“It feels kinda nice ta be needed,” Ray whispered to himself.

“You got Paige and Mere.”

“Not really,” he muttered. “They pretty much take care a each other,” Ray sighed. “Lizard Breath needs lookin’ after.”

“Lizard Breath? That’s disgusting!”

The baby jumped at the sound of Vecchio’s raised voice and Ray shot him a withering glare.

“Sorry,” Vecchio whispered softly. “But Lizard Breath?”

“Sounds like Elizabeth,” he snapped. “She’s gonna be little, she needs to be tough too.”

“And you think a nickname like Lizard Breath is gonna make her tough.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“You’re gonna make a really great godfather, Kowalski. She’s gonna hate you.”

Ray looked lovingly at his goddaughter, who was still clutching his finger. “Nah,” he smiled, “she ‘n me are always gonna be special ta each other.”

Vecchio shrugged his shoulders and left them alone.

Reluctant to pull away from her, Ray rubbed her cheek lightly with the back of his free hand. “Don’t ya even listen ta Vecchio, sweetheart. You ‘n me are gonna be greatness.” After kissing her softly on the forehead, Ray left the room.

Chapter 3 

Ray Kowalski knew that it was time. Far passed time, really. He’d been thinking about this for several weeks and knew it wasn’t fair to any of them, especially Mere, to hold off any longer.

He knew what it felt like to be in love, and he knew what it felt like to be happy. And he knew that he wasn’t feeling either one with Paige, any more. Or maybe he never had. He thought that to be more likely. He’d wanted so desperately to have the kind of relationship the Turnbull and Kerri had. But now he was afraid that he had taken advantage of Paige, her loneliness, her need for comfort and even the fact that she came with a ready-made family. Did that make him a real loser?

Nah, he thought, just a lonely guy looking for someone to love. But he had finally realized that Paige wasn’t it. Oh, he loved Meredith. Completely, utterly and without reservation. But he didn’t love her mother. To stay with Paige under those circumstances would mean that he really did suck.

And so he had decided to tell her goodbye. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially since every time he visited Turnbull she would be around. But it had to be done and talking with Turnbull just confirmed it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ray. Are you sure you can’t work it out? You both seemed so happy, in the beginning any way. I thought you both had really found your match,” Renfield said with a note of true sadness in his voice.

“I’m not sure I ever loved her, ya know? I really wanted to, and I’ve really tried. It just isn’t happenin’ for me. I thought I could, especially for Mere, but that’s not fair, ta love the little girl ‘n not the mom.”

“It’s got to be very hard to admit that, Ray. But if that is how you truly feel, you need to tell Paige, and the sooner the better. If you’d like, Kerri and I will watch Mere for a little bit while you talk to Paige. That way you can have a little privacy.”

“Thanks, man, yer right. I’ll do it now while I still got the guts.”

Renfield heard Ray trudge up the back stairs and knock on Paige’s door. Within about five minutes, Mere came bounding into the bookshop. No longer afraid of Dickens, Mere had made the shop a part of her extended home, which also included the Turnbull’s apartment.

“Hi, Mister Mountie. Ray says I should come down and visit you for a while. Where’s Miss Kerri?” Mere said, all the while smiling at Beth who was sleeping in a bassinet behind the cash register.

“She just ran across the street to pick up my uniforms from the cleaners. Do you think it would be okay with your Mom if you had a brownie? Miss Kerri and I just made some in the Tea Room.”

The excited little girl clapped her hands in delight. “Sure!” she beamed at him. “My mommy says I can have some, as long as you ask, and not me. She says it’s impolite to beg.”

Renfield just rolled his eyes and took her hand. He remembered with a little sadness the first time he met Mere. He’d been drawn to her from the first. He smiled at the thought. There were very few children that he was not drawn to. But Meredith was different. Her violet eyes and auburn hair made her a very beautiful child. But that wasn’t of particular interest to Renfield, he was more drawn to the sadness he saw in her eyes. The child had seen far too much in her short life.

And now she would be let down again. That made Renfield profoundly unhappy. He hated, just hated to see any child suffer as he knew Mere would once she found out that Ray and her mother would no longer be friends. For as well as he knew Ray, Renfield also knew Paige. And once Ray had told her that he didn’t love her, Renfield knew that Paige would no longer want to have anything to do with Ray.

Renfield sighed deeply as he handed the brownie to his young friend. “What’s wrong Mr. Mountie? Are you sad?” Mere didn’t even take a bite of her treat, being more concerned for her friend.

“I am, a little. Sometimes things happen that we just can’t do anything about, and that makes me sorry.”

“I’ve heard Miss Kerri say that a cup of tea always makes things better. Maybe you should have some.”

Mere’s concern touched his heart. “How about if I fix you some hot chocolate and I’ll have some tea.”

Kerri found them, in the middle of the hastily thrown together tea party, when she returned from the cleaners. “This looks like fun! Why wasn’t I invited…”

Her enthusiasm died immediately upon seeing the look in Renfield’s eyes. Something was wrong.

“Mere, why don’t you finish your brownie and Miss Kerri and I will take my uniforms upstairs. Keep an eye on Beth for us, okay? We’ll be back in two minutes.”

Thrilled that she was being entrusted with a responsibility as huge as watching the sleeping baby, Mere was suddenly nervous. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

They made it all the way to the top of the stairs before either of them spoke again. “Renny, what is it? What’s wrong? Where’s Paige?” Kerri asked as she threw his uniform across the back of a chair, more concerned about the look on Renfield’s face than a wrinkled tunic.

Renfield cast his eyes toward the ceiling and sighed. “Paige is upstairs and Ray is with her.” Kerri began to frown, afraid by Renfield’s tone of what might come next. “Ray is breaking up with her.”

Kerri felt like crying – for Paige, for Mere and for Ray. Everyone had wanted so much for it to work out between them, but Kerri had been sensing something from Paige for weeks. She had only recently realized that the something was sadness.

“I was afraid this was going to happen. Paige has seemed so unsettled lately, like she just wasn’t satisfied with her life.”

Renfield narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “And you always say that I’m the perceptive one. I really hadn’t noticed.”

Kerri hugged her husband. “That’s because of all the people who wanted Ray and Paige to make it, you wanted it the most. You know the main reason I love you?”

Renfield threw out his chest and drew up to his full height. “Because I’m devastatingly handsome?”

Kerri chuckled. “Okay, that’s number one. But number two is the way you care about others. Children and adults alike, you want them all to be happy.”

Renfield thought about it for a minute. “You’re right, I guess. I guess we all wanted it so much we just made something out of nothing. Even Ray. I’m just sorry that it didn’t work out.”

Kerri grabbed his hand. “Our two minutes are up. We need to get back to Mere and Beth. Mere’s going to need us – you more than ever now.”

____________________________________

“I’m sorry, ya know? I never meant ta hurt ya, neither one a ya.” Ray tried to take her hand, but Paige pulled away. “It’s just I don’t think either a us is really happy.”

Paige sighed as she accepted the truth of Ray’s words. She hadn’t been truly happy with life in general for several months. Now she thought she finally knew the reason. All that Ray had said was true, theirs was a relationship based on loneliness and need, but not on love. And it was doomed to fail.

As Ray watched a tear slid down her cheek. “Dammit, honey, I didn’t wanna make ya cry. I -”

Paige held up her hands to stop his flow of self-recriminating words. “It’s not your fault. It’s really not. You’re right, I guess. We needed each other for a while, but now we don’t. It’s okay, Ray. Really. It just wasn’t meant to be, even if it was engineered by Renfield.”

“Ya gonna be okay?”

Paige took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as she made a decision. “I think it’s time that Mere and I went back to California. That’s really where we belong, even if there isn’t much family left there any more, we still have the family home. Mere needs a sense of family, even Roger’s. And I think it would be easier for her not to think that yet another man has betrayed her.” Once again Paige held up her hand to stop Ray from saying anything. “I know you didn’t betray her. You’d never do that. It’s just that her father was a jerk and I don’t want her to think that of you, too. We’ll just tell her that I need to go home and you can’t come.”

Paige’s matter of fact statement broke Ray’s heart. Saying goodbye to Paige was hard enough, but he didn’t know if he could stand to lose Meredith. The sweet little girl was the first child he had ever loved. The thought of her being half a continent away brought tears to his eyes.

Paige took Ray’s arm and put on a brave front. “We’ll go down and talk to her right now. Before either of us loses our nerve.”

“Ya sure ya hafta do this? Move all the way ta California? You could stay here – well maybe not right here, but in Chicago –”

“Nope. I need to go back to the house in California, I know that now. Plus, it would just be too hard, and too tempting to be this close to you. You are pretty irresistible, you know.”

Ray had never admired Paige more than at this moment. Both of them had accepted the ending of their relationship, but Paige was facing it straight on and getting on with her life. Ray wished he were that brave.

Meredith cried long and hard when she realized her mother was serious and she would probably never see Ray or Mister Mountie again. But the promise from Renfield and Kerri that they would come visit and take her to Disneyland and several hugs and kisses from Ray finally calmed her down.

When mother and daughter reluctantly made their way back upstairs, Ray, Renfield and Kerri all knew that a significant chapter in their lives had just come to an end.

Chapter 4

Lance Gregory knew that it was time. He couldn’t believe that it had finally come, but graduation with a Master’s in Library Science had made this moment inevitable. It was time for him to move on to a new position with the Morgan Library and Museum.

But the offer of a position as Assistant Curator also meant leaving Great Expectations and the people he loved most in the world – Kerri and Renfield.

He’d only worked there two years, but he felt as if he had known the Turnbulls all his life. He was certain that in the whole world there were no truer or dearer friends.

He remembered well the day he had answered her newspaper ad. Kerri was looking for someone to share the burden of running the bookshop that, at that point, didn’t even have a name. Mr. Murphy’s Bookshop was how it was referred to in the neighborhood. It would take several months and a lot of soul searching before they finally came up with a name that fit.

He and Kerri had hit it off instantly. She came right out and told him he reminded her of Renfield. He was almost exactly the same height, and although younger than Renfield by more than ten years, from a distance they looked remarkably alike. Sandy hair, blue eyes and a muscular build had Kerri offering him a job on the spot. The fact that he was a grad student at Northwestern didn’t hurt, of course.

Lance thought back over all the things that had happened in the last two years. He smiled as he remembered the day he had told Kerri he was gay. So concerned that her policeman husband and his policeman friends would throw him out on his butt, it took him several weeks to find a way to tell her.

Lance smiled as he remembered the mortified look on her face and laughed to himself as he thought of her embarrassment. He remembered her words exactly.

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” But much to his surprise, she wasn’t upset by his sexual preference, but by her own behavior. “And I’ve tried to fix you up with every young girl that comes in here! God, Lance I’m so embarrassed. I should have been trying to find you a guy!” 

Lance laughed now, much as he had laughed then, from humor and relief. Kerri didn’t have a prejudiced bone in her body, and as he was to find out very soon, neither did Renfield.

Thinking about how openly he was accepted into their lives brought him around to thinking about his parents. Once he had told them about his lifestyle his father disowned him – literally. They hadn’t spoken since, and that was almost seven years ago. His mother, on the other hand, still spoke to him occasionally, but only to see if he had come to his senses – or recovered from his disease.

When he and Arthur moved in together, his mother had told all her friends that they were good buddies trying to save some money by sharing the rent. And when he and Arthur broke up a few months ago, his mother breathed a sigh of relief and told him that now he could look for a nice girl.

When he told Kerri that Arthur had found someone new she just hugged him and told him how sorry she was. That night they had cried together over a cup of tea. Now that he thought about it, Kerri and Renfield were more family to him than his natural parents, and he loved them a whole lot more.

He often thought that if he were in the least bit attracted to women, he’d have fallen hard for Kerri. But no two people he had ever known suited each other as well as Renfield and Kerri. He often wondered what they were like before they got together. Lance was certain that they were better people for being together than they could have ever been separately.

But now it was time to say goodbye. Lance just didn’t know how he could ever do it.  
____________________________________

Renfield walked up behind Kerri as she stood at the kitchen sink preparing a salad for their dinner. “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “what’s bothering you? You haven’t said two words since I’ve been home.”

To his surprise, Kerri hung her head and began to cry. Renfield turned her to face him and held her more tightly. There were few things in the world that broke his heart more than seeing his wife cry. “Please tell me what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

“It’s Lance,” she sobbed, “he – he’s leaving – leaving us! I moved his jacket off my chair and a letter from the Morgan Museum fell out of the pocket. I just know they’ve offered him a job! He’s going to go all the way to New York!”

Renfield hugged her tightly. “You had to know this day would come sooner or later. Lance is, well, brilliant and his talents are really wasted here. You should be happy for him.”

“First Paige and now Lance!” she cried. “I understand why Paige has to leave, but I don’t want Lance to go. He’s our friend! You should want him to stay too –”

“–I do wish he could stay in Chicago, but this is a wonderful opportunity for him. Be happy for him? Don’t make him feel like he’s being unfair to –”

“–that’s not fair! I’m not going to make him feel like that! I just want him to stay,” she sobbed.

“Kerri, it’s not like you to be selfish. Please be happy for him?”

Kerri reluctantly admitted to herself that Renfield was right. It was selfish of her to want to keep Lance here. He was young and had a very bright future ahead of him. She should be proud to know him and let him begin to live his life away from the bookshop. She suddenly remembered a conversation they had had well over a year ago. Lance had told her that his life was here, among these tomes. 

She had laughed then and told him to get a real life. That was exactly what he was trying to do.

“You’re right, I guess. I hate it that you’re always right,” she muttered. “I’ll wish him a happy life, but I won’t like it.” Renfield pushed her away and held her at arm’s length as he scowled. “All right, all right. I’ll like it. But not a lot. Hey! It’s the best I’m going to be able to do!”

Renfield smiled broadly and drew her tightly against him. “Your best is all any of us could wish for. Hmm, as I remember your best is pretty darn good,” he whispered as he began to move against her body.

Dinner was served very late that night, but not for the usual reason that Renfield and Kerri missed meals. This time, instead of heading for their bedroom, they were diverted by the sound of insistent crying. Beth picked that precise moment to awaken, very hungry, very wet and very much of a mind that she needed tending to – immediately.  
____________________________________

“They’ve offered me the position as Assistant Archivist. I’ll be working in their research library with the special collections. Think of all the rare books I’ll be in charge of –”

Although his announcement came as no surprise to her, it still just broke Kerri’s heart that Lance was really leaving. It was more than she could do to put on the happy face she had all but promised Renny.

“– I’m sorry, Kerri, but it’s just too great an opportunity to pass up.”

When Kerri did not respond, he hurried on, trying desperately to convince her – and himself – that this was the right thing to do. “It’s just, just that I’ve been studying for this practically my whole life! And I’ve got something to prove, you know? To myself and especially to my parents. I don’t have to have their help, or even their approval to be successful. They’ve always made me feel that my sexuality will cause me to be a failure.” 

“I’m happy for you, Lance. I really am, but,” before she could finish she burst into tears. “I’m s–sorry. I’m just going to miss you so much. You’re like m–my little brother. And – and I wanted Beth to get to know you.”

To her surprise there were tears in his eyes too. “You sure you don’t think I’ll infect her? The gayness might rub off,” he teased through his tears.

Kerri punched him in the arm and smiled. “Do you have any idea what a wonderful man you are? I’m sorry, but I think your parents are fools and Arthur too. You’re going to be the best damn archivist that museum has ever had. And I’d like for some of you to rub off on Beth.”

“I will come to visit – often! She’ll know her Uncle Lance, I promise. New York isn’t all that far away, you know.”

“When do you have to be there?” Of everything, this is what she dreaded the most.

“They asked me to start at the first of the month.”

“That’s just two weeks! Oh, Lance, I don’t know if I can bear to lose you that soon!”

She grabbed him in a tight embrace as they both cried. 

“Promise me that when you’re rich and famous that you won’t forget us? The New York lifestyle can be pretty fancy schmancy compared to us common folks. I couldn’t bear it if you got all snooty on us,” Kerri sniffed.

“Fat chance of that. You guys are pretty unforgettable, you know.” He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and moved a few steps back from her. “You and Renfield are the best friends I have – will ever have. If I ever get snooty I know I can count on you to put me in my place.”

Kerri smiled at him. “You got that right, bud! Even if I have to walk all the way to New York City, I’ll pull you back in line.”

Their easy banter had served its purpose. Both of them felt much better, and now knew that saying goodbye was anything but final.

Chapter 5 

The gate to Donnacona Institution swung open for the produce truck at precisely 6:00 am. One of the guards remarked, not for the first time in the last few months, that Levesque was certainly more punctual these days.

The winter morning darkness and the guard’s familiarity with Pierre shielded him from the intense scrutiny that usually greeted everyone who passed through the gates. It was a very good thing that the guards didn’t look too closely as Pierre drove on, because he was so nervous that the only thing keeping him from running off the road was the thought of all the money he would be collecting in just a few hours. He hit the dock hard three different times as he attempted to back up to unload his delivery.

“Hey, man. Watch it! You’d think you’d never put that thing in reverse before.”

“Sorry!” Pierre shouted out the driver’s window to the inmate waiting to help him unload. “Mirror needs cleaning or something.” Even more nervous now, he fumbled for two minutes before he could get his door open and then stumbled before he could get both feet on the ground.

He’d been told how to create a diversion, and this was definitely not the way. Through sheer force of will he was able to get himself under control and begin to help the inmate unload.

He wasn’t able to keep his mind on what he was doing however, as he kept looking over his shoulder. When he finally smacked his helper in the head with a crate of radishes, the guy had had enough.

“What the hell ya think yer doin’, eh? I don’t need no beatin’ up here, ya know. WATCH IT!”

The guard who was loafing against the loading dock door perked up at the sound of shouting and took two steps toward them. Even though it wasn’t what he’d been instructed to do, Pierre knew he had his diversion.

He dropped the crate and, in one slightly less than fluid motion, took a swing at the stocky inmate. Taken completely by surprise, the inmate found himself flat on his back looking at stars, and not the kind in the sky. Before the guard had a chance to reach either one of them, Pierre had pounced on his adversary and both men were engaged in a flurry of fists, feet and teeth. Never known for his ability to fight fair, Pierre used every trick in the book to keep from being overwhelmed by the larger, stronger man, and to keep all eyes focused on him and not on the trap door of the veggie mobile.

Supposedly on his way from his job in the laundry to the infirmary to see the nurse about a nasty (self-inflicted) burn on his arm, Norman took a detour through the busy kitchen. Preparing for the early morning breakfast rush the over worked civilian and prisoner staff never gave Norman a second glance as he made his way through the cargo doors and into the darkness at the far end of the loading dock. He almost didn’t make it in time. 

The idiot that his poor excuse for a Family had hired to break him out was just about to screw things up royally. Rather than do as he was told, the moron got into a fistfight.

Norman took the only chance he had and rushed through the darkness, along the edge of the dock, to the far side of the van. Under the cover of darkness he threw himself under the box of the truck and laid perfectly still on the ground. He heard the stream of profanity from the moron, the inmate and the guard, and then heard the sound of booted feet running toward the dock. All he could think was that if this guy screwed this up he’d have him killed before sunset.

But fortune smiled on Norman and Pierre. While the guards were otherwise occupied pulling Pierre and the inmate apart, Norman unlatched the trap door and climbed into the narrow hiding place in the van. Once inside he could only pray that the moron didn’t get locked up, otherwise he’d suffocate in this tight space.

“The jerk hit me, eh! What’re ya cuffin’ me for? He’s the one that started it!”

Pierre wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand while he glared at the inmate. “You’d better put this guy in a cage! He’s a menace! I’m getting the hell outta here before someone kills me! Next time I come here, he’d better not be anywhere in sight or –”

“– shut up and get the hell outta here!” the first guard shouted. “The truck’s unloaded, so just get in and go!”

“I should file charges or something! If you can’t protect the public from guys like that –”

Norman could hear that Pierre was on a roll and knew that if he didn’t shut up they would both be screwed. But there was nothing he could do about it – not now at least.

“– shut the hell up and get outta here!” guard number two yelled as the inmate struggled against their hold on him. 

When the inmate almost broke free in his attempt at murderous retribution, Pierre was scared in to silence. Praying that his cargo had made it safely into the van, he’d been too occupied with a fist in his face to actually see Norman, Pierre limped to his truck and after two shaky attempts to get the key in the ignition, he drove away from the dock.

____________________________________

Passing through the gates proved harder than he had hoped. Apparently trying to make a point, the guards took their own sweet time inspecting the cab and box of the truck. For the first time in months they also shined flashlights over the underside of the entire length of the truck.

“Man, what’re you guys lookin’ for?” Pierre’s voice cracked just slightly as his adrenaline rush began to fail him.

“Look, Levesque, we don’t want no potato man comin’ in ta our place and makin’ trouble, see? Just watch yer step next time!” The guard stepped back from the truck and without any further word waved his flashlight motioning for Pierre to leave.

The sky was lighter now than he’d hoped it would be but Pierre proceeded on out of the prison yard. He ran up on the shoulder of the road, sending up a huge spray of gravel, and almost clipped the brick wall that held the letters announcing ‘Donnacona Institution’, before he made it to the main road.

He hit bottom just after the guard waved his flashlight, losing all his adrenaline enhanced bravado and strength. His hands were sweating and shaking so much that he had to wipe them on his pants just to hold on to the steering wheel.

Once on the main highway Pierre gave the signal, two short horn blasts to ensure his cargo was safely tucked away. Two sharp raps on the wall behind his head told Pierre all he needed to know, his cargo was aboard and he would soon have his money.

The rendezvous point was 22km from the prison, up an old logging road that was closed for the winter. One thing that had caused Pierre a great amount of concern was how he was going to get the truck up the road and away from the highway if the ground was muddy. Fortunately for him the weather had been dry for weeks.

It took him 20 minutes to get there, longer than even he had estimated, but fortunately for him there was little traffic, and no one on the road when he reached the turnoff. When he drove up, they were waiting for him. There were two older, nondescript sedans that seemed to be loaded with men so huge they looked like they should play hockey for the Leafs. 

When Pierre finally brought the truck to halt, the men were on him in a second.

“Ya got ‘em?” “What da hell took ya so long?” “Ya got any idea how long we’ve been waitin?” “Sors-le d’ici avant qu’il suffoque!”

Pierre might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that he should keep his mouth shut. These guys didn’t want to hear excuses, they just wanted their boss, safe and sound, and before he suffocated.

Pierre wouldn’t have had a chance to open his mouth even if he’d wanted to. Almost immediately after the truck stopped, he could hear one of the Leafs pound on the side of the truck and hear the muffled pounding in response.

Barely two minutes later, as Pierre stopped shaky long enough to climb out of the cab, he heard the trap door fall open and his cargo tumble to the ground. Having never laid eyes on Norman, Pierre was shocked at how small the man was – and how angry.

“What the hell do you think you were doing, you simple minded son of a bitch?” Norman shouted as he got to his feet after rolling out from under the truck. “You could have gotten me killed! Haven’t you ever heard of a PLAN?” He continued to shout as he advanced on Pierre.

“S-sorry. I just saw an op-opportunity to create a diversion, so I t-took it. I-I’m sorry!”

Norman jabbed his finger in the larger man’s chest. “I don’t give a shit about sorry. When I put a plan in place, I expect my orders to be carried out! Of all the dimwitted, imbecilic, idiotic –”

“If-if you’ll just give me my money, I-I’ll get out of here,” Pierre whispered to the finger still jabbing at his chest.

Norman’s head snapped up to glare at Pierre. “You can’t really think…” Norman sputtered, so angry he could barely form the words, “…after almost getting me killed, that I’d –” He stopped in mid-sentence, spun on his heel and walked away.

About ten paces away he raised his hand, snapped his fingers and ordered, “shoot him.”

Before Pierre even had a chance to open his mouth to object he was dead, the bullet having pierced his heart and the side panel of his detested veggie mobile.

Norman walked on to the car, never looking back. He glared as one of the Leafs helped him into a heavy wool overcoat and opened the rear passenger door for him. “Marcel, if you ever, EVER speak Québécois around me again, you’ll get the same. That shit head René talked like that. I hate it!” 

____________________________________

Norman knew his escape route to be simple yet elegant, with just the touch of irony he loved so much. Elegant because he had planned it and simple because simple was all his Family members could comprehend. The ironic part would come later. No one but Norman knew the details for many reasons, not the least of which was that he trusted no one. Not even Rhonda.

Rhonda was under the impression that now that she was finished with her Pierre diversion and Norman would soon be available again, they would resume their relationship. Even she was a dimwit, Norman thought. Her place was the first place the cops would look for him. No, his escape did not include Rhonda. In fact it only included one of his Family members.

“Where we goin’, huh Boss? Rhonda’s?” Leaf number two asked as he hefted himself behind the wheel of the first sedan. Leaf number three, already aboard in the passenger seat, snickered at the thought of his boss visiting Rhonda after so many years. He’d never been locked up himself, but he’d heard the talk.

“Are you a total jackass? I figure they’re going to be missing me pretty damn soon. Where’s the first place the cops are going to look, you idiot?” Norman sighed at the stupidity that surrounded him. “We’re going to Quebec City, but not to Rhonda’s, and Marcel is taking the other car towards Toronto.”

“But Boss, shouldn’t we have all the guys, just in case there’s a firefight or somthin’?” Leaf number 3 asked, hopefully.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, you moron? A firefight. Great! Then all this trouble would be for nothing, because not only would you be dead, but more importantly, I’d be dead! This isn’t the States, you idiot!”

Leaf number 3 knew better than to argue, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Where we goin’ in the City, Boss?” Leaf number two just loved it when Norman’s anger was directed toward someone other than himself.

“Just shut up and drive!”

They arrived in the old city barely an hour later. Norman sent the Leafs on their way with instructions to get on Hwy 20 and keep driving until they ran out of road. They were not to contact him under any circumstance. He left them on rue des Carrières scratching their heads and wondering what the heck he was up to.

Norman pulled the collar of his coat up around his face and pulled a felt fedora down almost over his eyes, against the bitter wind and against identification, and proceeded up the cobblestoned rue des Carrières. It was just a short walk to his destination – Le Chateau Frontenac.

Often described by tourists as a fairytale castle because of its copper spires and stone turrets, Norman noticed nothing of the hotel’s beauty. In just a few minutes, he had made his way from the Plains of Abraham up the Cap Diamant Cliffs. Entering through a side door, away from any potential prying eyes in the main lobby, he proceeded directly to a suite rented several days before by an American businessman. Unknown to the police on either side of the border, James Burnside was the perfect person to occupy the suite for Norman. Of course, James Burnside was only what it said on the man’s US passport. He was neither James Burnside nor American. Norman never saw the man, however. Burnside had been instructed to get out of the hotel earlier that morning, before Norman ever arrived. James Burnside would never know why he’d been told to reserve the suite or who was going to stay there after he left.

____________________________________

Norman may not have noticed the spires or turrets that comprised the exterior of le Chateau, but time spent in prison did have him noticing the opulent appointments of this suite, if only for a moment. He’d been dreaming of his first meal as a free man for months. The fact that le Chateau had a four star chef in residence was right up there on his list of reasons for choosing this location to stage his little excursion into the US.

“Good morning, Mr. Burnside. What may we do for you today?” The Maître d’ du Hotel asked as soon as he picked up the phone.

James Burnside had been instructed to order lunch from room service every day of his stay for precisely this reason. All Norman’s favorite things, from the way he liked his steak to his preferred type of salad dressing were well known to the staff. Nothing that Norman ordered now would cause even the remotest question.

“Porterhouse steak, asparagus with hollandaise, salad, baked potato with the works.”

“We also have some magnificent hazelnut cake today. Should I include a slice?”

“Sure.”

“And possibly some hot tea with a touch of lemon and honey?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“For your throat, sir. You sound rather hoarse today.”

“That will be fine – and a whiskey and soda. And please tell the waiter to let himself in. I’ll be in the shower.”

The Maître d’ hung up the phone with a frown. That was definitely Mr. Burnside’s room, but the gentleman certainly hadn’t sounded like Mr. Burnside. He promptly forgot all about it as his phone rang once again.

Norman planned to indulge in one additional luxury before getting on with the business at hand. A long steam in a shower larger than his prison cell would have him feeling almost human again, in addition to hiding his identity from whomever delivered his meal.

The years of incarceration faded from reality to memory as the hot steam and water washed the stink of prison off him. Almost one half hour later, Norman heard the waiter announce himself, and then a few moments later close the suite doors as he left the room. Only then did Norman step out of the shower and wrap himself in the plush hotel robe.

Burnside had chosen well. The shirt, tie and suit he found waiting for him in the mammoth closet were exactly his size and style. He felt the proverbial new man as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d never particularly cared for his looks, from his late teenage years he had always been envious of René’s build, his violent blue eyes and blonde hair. But looking at himself now, he cast his self-loathing and bitter memories of his half-brother aside. He drew to his full, albeit short, height and smiled. Working out in prison had added quite a lot of well-defined muscle to what he had always thought was his unacceptable height. No, now he rather liked what he saw in the mirror. Not bad, not bad at all.

Those who had known him at Donnacona would have hardly recognized the dapper man who sat at the Queen Anne writing desk eating very rare steak and hazelnut cake while talking on the phone. Norman was so deep in conversation that the suite’s panoramic view of the St Lawrence River went almost completely unnoticed.

“I’m out,” was all he had the opportunity to say before the rush of words from the other end of the line cut him off. “Now darlin’ if I told you that, I’d have to shoot you. Where I am is a secret,” he drawled. If the woman had known just how deadly serious he was, she would have been scared to death.

“Here’s what I need you to do. NO!” you idiot, he thought. “Don’t write this down, darlin’. Just try real hard to remember.” God damn empty-headed bitch. He’d always thought that Rhonda was as stupid as they come, but this bitch was right up there with Rhonda on the stupidity scale. “Rent a car, but NOT at the airport. Meet me at Auberge La Goéliche on chemin du Quai on Ile d’Orleans at three o’clock. Got it? Good, now tell me what you’re going to do for me, darlin’.” She was going to screw this up – he just knew it. “NO! NOT at the airport.” God damn it! “Don’t cry, I’m sorry I shouted. Please don’t get the car at the airport. That’s a good girl. I’ll be waiting for you on the walk by the river. We’ll discuss where we’re going then, okay sweetie?”

Norman had to control himself to keep from throwing the phone out the window. Idiots! He was surrounded by idiots! Even his so-called father had been idiot!

Thinking of his father brought him around to René and that brought him around to his purpose for his trip. One dead Mountie in just a few days, now that was a comforting thought.

Chapter 6

Meg decided that Kerri and Beth needed a baby shower. Okay, she admitted to herself, she also felt the need to throw a huge party to celebrate the arrival of the littlest Turnbull. She had to smile at the thought of Liz, as she would forever refer to the tiny little bundle who had already turned their lives upside down. And made a huge number of people extremely happy.

Meg had seen her subordinate officer go through some horrifying troubles in the last few years, but now was the time for joy. And she intended to do everything in her power to see that Turnbull and Kerri got all the joy they could possibly stand from this experience. Of course she intended to enjoy it too.

She’d been to showers before, of course, she had just never hosted one. So she called the only person she could think of who had experience in these matters – Francesca Vecchio. After the bank robbery incident, she and Francesca had become tentative friends. They had almost nothing in common, if you didn’t count their mutual attraction to a certain handsome man in red, but Meg bore a grudging admiration for Francesca. She didn’t remember much about what happened in the bank, but Kerri had told her how Frannie had stood up to the robbers and almost gotten herself killed in a slightly misguided attempt to protect Meg after she’d been shot.

Meg had decided against a surprise party because she needed to hold the event at Kerri’s place, since Kerri was the only one who had enough room for the large group Meg intended to invite. But she intended to have everything else just as traditional as possible.

“It’s not going to be a surprise, but I’d like everything else to be traditional,” she explained to Frannie. “Lots of frills and streamers and pink and oohing and aahing over the baby. Oh, and mints and nuts and punch. Is that too corny? Oh! And a cake. I remember from the wedding that Kerri likes chocolate cake. I don’t think there should be any alcohol, but you think about it. Renfield and Kerri have waited a long time and this needs to be really special.” Meg was breathless by the time she was through.

Frannie laughed to herself. If she lived to be 100, she would have never thought that Meg could get this excited about anything. She had to agree though, she couldn’t think of anyone she knew who had wanted or deserved to have a baby more than Turnbull and Kerri. And that little Beth was just so darn cute, you couldn’t help but love her.

“Okay, okay! We’ll fix up their place nice. Just give me a couple a days ta think about it,” Frannie laughed. “How bout two weeks from Friday night? That way Paige will still be here. Lance’s leavin’ that Sunday, so it’ll keep Kerri’s mind off it.”

“That’s a very good idea! I’ll check with Kerri, but I don’t know of anything special happening that night, so it sounds good to me.”

____________________________________

Norman met her at 3 o’clock, just as arranged. He’d picked this particular time because he knew the Inn would be virtually deserted. They had few customers this time of the year anyway, and at this time of day the few tourists on hand would be out seeing the sites or catching a quick nap before dinner.

It was bitterly cold. The breeze off the river was so stiff as he walked toward her that he watched her long blonde hair whipping into her face. He approached downwind so that when he finally reached her she jumped in surprise.

He loved the element of surprise. It revealed so much about a person when you caught them in an unguarded moment. Right now he caught just the briefest gleam of intelligence in her eyes that he knew she did not possess. It passed so quickly that he was sure he had misread it.

“NORMIE!” she screamed as she threw herself into his arms. “You silly boy, you scared me.”

Stupid bitch! Thank God there was no one around to overhear. “You know not to be screaming my name in public,” he growled into her ear. He squeezed tightly enough that he knew he hurt her. That was the point – making a point. He didn’t want to hurt her enough to scare her off, he still needed her around for a while, but he did want to show her who was boss. Lifting weights in prison had certainly done wonders for his upper body strength. Maybe a bruise or two where they wouldn’t show was just what she needed to remind her how stupid she was.

“Normie, you’re hurting me,” she breathed, barely able to get air into her lungs. “I promise not to do that again. Please, you’re –”

He eased his grip on her until he felt just the arousing pressure of her breasts on his chest. “Been waiting to feel your body again,” he whispered between painful bites on her neck. “Been a long time, huh, Baby?”

“God, you feel so good,” she purred, wincing just slightly as he came very close to drawing blood. “You gonna let me in on the plan? That’s why we’re here, right, Normie?” she whispered.

“Go get us a room,” he ordered, knowing he couldn’t wait until later as he had originally planned. “Use cash!” he called quietly after her.

The room they gave her was tastefully decorated with French provincial furniture and Laura Ashley fabrics, with a huge king sized bed and numerous floral throw pillows. There were French doors that opened onto a balcony that overlooked the St. Lawrence River. But to Norman it was one floral and gilt blur as he slammed the door behind them.

Pushing her roughly onto the bed, he pulled at her clothes until she had to scoot away from him to keep him from tearing her blouse. 

“Normie, there’s plenty of time. Slow down,” she said as she stood to finish unbuttoning her blouse. She didn’t have time to unhook her bra before he was on her.

“Normie, let’s take it slow, I –”

But McGill was having nothing to do with 'slow'. He wanted her quick and if pain was involved so be it, it would be hers, not his.

When he'd finally had enough of his version of making love, or inflicting pain, laying fully on top of her he took his own sweet time coming back to himself. He never saw the single tear that slipped silently down her cheek.

____________________________________

“Need some air?” he asked as he came up behind her on the balcony. “You’re pretty damn good, you know that?” he whispered into her hair. She was actually surprised that he didn’t haul her back to bed or throw her to the ground and ravish her right there for all of the St. Lawrence River to see.

She waited about two heartbeats before she asked, “are you gonna tell me what you’re planning? They’ve got to be searching all over for you. How you gonna get out of here without them catching you?”

“Now Baby, I told you,” he said, none to sweetly, “if I told you my plans I’d have to shoot you, and you’re just too good a lay to die. It would be such a waste.” He hesitated briefly. “All you need to know right now is that I won’t be leaving for a while. So we’ll have plenty of time together. Now I want you to take me back downtown. I’ve got work to do.”

“Can’t I help, Normie? There’s lots of stuff I can do. I –”

“You’ll be able to show me all you can do tomorrow night, Baby. I need brainpower right now.”

It took them much longer than he had anticipated to reach the old city. Traffic along 138 was stop and go due to the continual construction. The darkness and the rush hour had even the side roads clogged.

Norman knew he shouldn’t be too upset, the cover of darkness was just what he needed. It just upset him though that he had to wait even longer to put the rest of his plan into motion.

“Where we going, Normie?”

“Just be quiet and I’ll tell you which way to turn.” They proceeded the rest of the way to the city in silence.

Finally at their destination, he instructed her to pull over. “Right here? But, Normie, there’s nothing here but –”

“Just shut up and park!” he demanded. “I know what I’m doing.” Unlike you, who doesn’t have a brain in your head, he thought.

Once out of the car he leaned back in the open door. “Listen to me and try to remember this. Park the car in the parking garage at the Bay. Go shopping, get something to eat, see a movie, get your nails done, whatever. Just hang out for a while. If anyone is following you maybe they’ll get bored.”

“But Normie, why would anyone want to –” His glare cut her off in mid-sentence.

Idiot! “Just do it! Meet me at the room on the island same time tomorrow. Now get out of here! I’ve got important work to do.”

She watched as he walked off, pulling the collar of the heavy wool coat up around his face, and the felt fedora down over his eyes. Getting out of here was fine with her, she had important work to do too.

Chapter 7

Paige McFadden knew that it was time, but she still hesitated in her doorway before she started down the stairs. She had to do this, and she had to do it now. She’d been thinking about it for days and the call she received from her mother just confirmed it. She needed to go home – right now.

She hesitated again as she turned the corner of the bookshop storeroom. From where she stood she could see Lance, deep in conversation with an elderly customer.

She was going to miss him. Not that much younger than she was, they really had quite a lot in common. Growing up in privileged surroundings, they had both disappointed their parents bitterly. Paige had run away from a man that her parents thought was a perfect match, and Lance had just run away, figuratively anyway, because his parents disapproved of his lifestyle.

It made Paige sad to think about it. Lance was such a sweet, kind man. He didn’t deserve to be treated the way his father had treated him. But, as she thought about it now, she didn’t deserve to be treated the way her father had treated her either.

She scanned the shop briefly looking for Kerri, then remembered the time. She smiled, Kerri would be upstairs feeding Beth. It never ceased to amaze her how one little person, no more than 10 pounds of life, could turn everyone else’s life completely upside down.

“Hey, you! What you smiling at?” Lance called to her as the customer left the shop. “If you’re just going to stand there looking goofy, I’ve got some inventory you can put away.”

“Hey! It’s my day off! And I’m busy enough, daydreaming,” she laughed as she approached the front counter.

When she was close enough, Lance could see the worry lines around her eyes. “Okay, give. What’s up?” he teased.

“Am I that transparent?”

“Yep, and you’re not going to change the subject on me. What’s wrong?”

Paige sighed and pursed her lips for just a moment. “I’ve got to get back to California, right away. I told Kerri that I’d stay long enough to be at the shower, but my father’s had a stroke –”

“Oh, God, Paige! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not that bad, but my mom’s using it as a guilt trip to get me to come home sooner. Not just to Roger’s mom’s house, but home – to their house.”

“God, Paige, you’re not going to do that are you? I don’t mean to knock your parents, but –”

“I don’t really look that dumb, do I? Of course I’m not moving back in with them.” The mere thought made her shudder. “But I do need to try to patch things up with my dad, and my mom would never forgive me if I didn’t get home right away. She needs to have someone to whine to.”

“Well, here comes the little mother now,” Lance whispered as he saw Kerri coming toward them. “Best just blurt it out, before you lose your nerve.”

Kerri walked toward them, carrying Beth in her arms. It was a rare thing to see her without the baby these days. Everywhere they went, either she or Renfield had Beth in their arms. But Paige couldn’t fault them. The sweet little thing hadn’t had much affection before she came to live with the Turnbull’s. That apparently would never be a problem for her again.

“Blurt out what?” Kerri smiled as she approached. “Paige?”

“I’m sorry, Kerri, but I have to leave tomorrow. I really wanted to be here for the shower, but my mom called and my dad had a stroke and she begged me to get back there right now, so I have to –” she blurted it out, all right, looking for all the world as if she were about to burst into tears.

“Of course you do,” Kerri said as she laid Beth in her bassinet behind the counter. She turned and took Paige in her arms. “Don’t give it another thought, please! You need to be with your family.”

Paige had tears in her eyes when Kerri released her. “You’re more family than they are, but I really do need to go. I’m going to miss you so much, you and Renfield and sweet little Bethy. And even Ray.”

Kerri took her hand, “come on, Beth and I will help you pack. Lance, can you mind the store for –” Paige and Lance watched as the realization hit Kerri full force. In a few days she wouldn’t have either one of them to help her. The thought staggered her, but she recovered quickly. Lance and Paige both knew what a brave front she was putting up. It had to be incredibly hard for her right now, losing two of her best friends, having new baby and a business to run on her own.

But they both knew her, and Kerri was nothing if not a hard worker. She’d make it, they knew she would. And she wouldn’t give either of them any reason to feel guilty. Sad yes, but never guilty.

“I guess I’m going to have to replace both,” her voice caught just slightly, “of you, and pretty quickly.” She pulled Paige on up the stairs as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 

Chapter 8

The search continued hot and heavy for the escapee, Norman McGill. Considered to be armed and extremely dangerous, Quebec City Police and the Quebec Provincial Police joined forces in one of the largest manhunts Quebec had ever seen. 

For seven days after he escaped, they would have been both shocked and greatly embarrassed to know that McGill was right under their collective noses, comfortably ensconced in Le Chateau Frontenac, or enjoying the bed of a lovely young woman at Auberge La Goéliche. But for the first week no one knew where Norman was hiding, not the police, not his Family and not even the lovely young woman. Because, even though he performed his form of brutal sex on her every evening, he always returned to le Chateau alone. All in all, for the first week, Norman enjoyed himself immensely. 

His plans were unfolding nicely too. His contacts both north and south of the border were cooperating in an uncharacteristically civil manner, and things were really beginning to come together, to the point that it was now time to move.

He was beginning to be concerned about being discovered anyway. Twice the chambermaid had arrived unexpectedly and Norman had had to shout at her through the door to stay out. And once room service had taken only 10 minutes and he hadn’t had the time to get in the shower. Yes, it wasn’t smart to tempt fate any longer, it was time to enter phase 2 of his plan.

And phase 2 included a brief visit to Chicago.  
____________________________________

“Pack a bag, Baby, because we’re heading out of town.” Norman announced to her. 

“Now? Where we going, Normie? When we leaving?” she purred as she tried to reach for him.

“STOP it!” She jumped and then pouted. “You ask too many questions. I’ve told you before, nobody knows my plans until I’m ready.”

“But I need to know what to pack, and how much,” she whined gently.

“Just pack a sweater and a tooth brush and you’ll be fine.” 

He left just after dark, this time daring to take a taxi. But it was raining hard, and the coat and hat did what they were designed to do – keep him dry and hide his identity.

The taxi was barely out of sight before she was out the door, into her car and on the phone that she kept hidden under the seat.

Unable to control her sobs, she punched the numbers. The call rang through, but no one spoke on the other end. She expected as much.

“I’m not any closer to finding out what he’s up to.”

“Keep at him.”

“I can’t do this anymore. Please, he’s hurting me more each time. It’s like he can’t get off just with sex, it’s got to include pain too. He’s really hurting me!”

“You knew the risks, we gotta know what he’s up to, and soon. The Family’s getting nervous. And you know what that means.”

“I can’t,” she finally broke down completely and verged on becoming hysterical.

“Yes, you can! You have to. Shut up and listen to me! It’s taken a long time to get to this point. If you wimp out on us now, everything will be lost. Just quit your blubbering and get on with it. Hurt him back if you have to, that’s probably what he wants anyway.”

“Please don’t make me do this –” there was a loud click as the line went dead. She sat in her car in the pouring rain and cried her heart out.

Several minutes later, when she had cried out all her tears, she made another call.

____________________________________

“Would you just shut up? You ask way too many questions. I’ll tell you when you need to know!”

They were heading west, in the third rental car in as many days. She had no idea how, but Norman seemed to know exactly where the roadblocks were and exactly how to avoid them. She would never be able to prove it, but she was pretty sure he had someone in the RCMP in his pocket. Getting this far away from Quebec was just too easy for there to be any other explanation.

When he had told her to head for the Trans Canadian Highway, she had almost gasped in shock. She knew he wasn’t stupid, anything but, but she had to think that it was a really dumb idea. They’d both heard the news earlier in the week, all means of travel were being watched, with the highways at the top of the list.

He had told her, for the hundredth time, to ‘shut up and drive, let him do the thinking’, so she had done as instructed. She did keep asking where they were going, however, because she really needed to know. But two days, almost 3000km, and very little sleep later, they were just getting back on the highway after skirting Regina using backroads and cow paths, and she was no closer to knowing where the hell they were heading.

Finally, just shy of the Alberta border, in the middle of exactly nowhere, he instructed her to pull off the highway and to the rear of an abandoned motel.

He directed her to drive straight into tall bushes and weeds behind what had once been the motel office. She let him out and proceeded into the bushes until he shouted for her to stop. After turning off the engine, she had no small amount of trouble opening the car door, the overgrown foliage having almost engulfed the car. “Would you move it! It’s cold out here.” She had to run to keep from losing him in the darkness, since he had obviously gotten tired of standing in the cold waiting for her to struggle out of the undergrowth – it did take almost two minutes, after all. “Don’t be thinking about any sex tonight, Baby, I’ve got to get some sleep.”

She wanted to weep with relief. So tired she could barely stand up, she was only mildly concerned about cleanliness of their apparent accommodations for the night. So she was shocked speechless when Norman produced a key and opened the door to room 4, the most secluded of the 12 rooms.

He flipped on the light to reveal a spartan, but spotlessly clean room. Two cots, with Hudson Bay blankets folded at the foot, sat perpendicular to each other on the walls farthest from the exterior door. The bathroom door was directly across from where they stood. She could see that, even though the linoleum was peeling up and the tile was broken in places, the bathroom had been recently cleaned – very recently.

“Close the God damned door before someone sees the light!” Norman yelled. She was about to ask about the light through the windows when she saw the blackout shades on them.

Someone had thought of everything, or perhaps Norman had thought of it and someone else had actually done the work. That was much more likely, she thought.

“Before you ask, don’t! I don’t want to hear anything out of you for the rest of the night. Go to sleep.” Without further pleasantries, he flipped out the light and laid down in the cot farthest from the door, leaving her to fumble toward the bathroom in the dark.

They pulled out just before sunup, both having slept soundly through the night. Fighting with the bushes that seemed to have grown a foot overnight, she thought that last night was the first night since Norman had escaped that he’d left her alone. Thank god for small favors.

They reached Calgary in just under 8 hours, when Norman surprised her yet again. Dozing in the passenger’s seat, he almost missed the turn off. “Get off here!” he shouted. “What the hell you think you’re doing?”

“You told me to stay on the Trans Canada. That’s what I was doing!” So tired her guard was down temporarily, she shouted right back.

“You ever – EVER – speak to me like that again and I swear I’ll shoot you right here. I don’t need you, you know, I’ve got…” Tired and angry he’d almost told her more than she needed to know. That was something he could not and would not tolerate. She’d know soon enough, but by then it wouldn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, Normie,” she pleaded. “I’m just so tired, and I’ve been driving so long. How much farther?”

“Listen to me closely,” he hissed. “I’ve had it up to here with your whining. Do not ask me again to tell you where we’re going or when we’ll get there. Just do as I say and SHUT THE HELL UP!”

She didn’t say another word for two hours, as they headed south. She’d decided about an hour earlier that she’d never know where they were headed, she was just doomed to drive on every paved, and some unpaved, road in every province in the entire country.

Once again she was surprised when Norman told her to turn west at Lethbridge, thereby avoiding the highway to Montana. What the hell was he doing?

If she hadn’t been so tired and worried, she might have enjoyed the scenery that led them to Crow’s Nest Pass. But winding their way through the Canadian Rockies into British Columbia had her more concerned about what she was going to do when they got to the ocean. Maybe he’d have her rent one of those amphibious things and they’d keep driving to Russia.

When Hwy 3 crossed Fife Lake, a small, niggling worry began to form in her mind. When they reached the junction of 3 and 395, that worry became real concern, and when they came within 40km of the US border, she knew. And what she now knew caused her blood to run cold in her veins.

Chapter 9

Her flight didn’t leave until noon, but Paige knew that if she didn’t want to miss it, she’d need to start leaving by 8am. Traveling with Mere was never easy, especially flying, but it was also the fastest way to get home. So, with three huge suitcases, a carry on full of snacks, crayons and coloring books, Mere, her Hello Kitty backpack and a stuffed Winnie the Pooh that was at least three feet tall, Paige made her way out her apartment door. She opened the door just as Ray was about to knock.

“Hi ya,” he whispered.

“Hi ya,” she returned.

“I thought ya might need some help, ‘n stuff.”

“Ray, we’ve been over this. It’ll be easier if I go to the airport in a cab.”

“I know. It’s just, well, I kinda feel bad bout everythin’,” he said, so sheepishly it practically broke her heart.

“None of this is your fault, I wish you’d believe that. If you hadn’t done something about our relationship, I would have. It just wasn’t working, Ray. And not for lack of trying,” she sighed. “We both wanted it so bad, but it just wasn’t right. You’re a terrific guy, someday some other lady is going to believe that too. And then it’ll be right.”

“For right now, I think I’m gonna give up tryin’ ta find her. I’ve had two great ladies ‘n I couldn’t keep either one a them,” he admitted.

“Once again, not for lack of trying. When the love’s gone, or was never there to begin with, all the trying in the world isn’t going to help. I should know. I tried with Roger, but that didn’t work – thank God. And I tried with you, I even fooled myself into believing that we loved each other. I guess I do love you, just not in that way.”

Ray took her in his arms. “Me too,” he admitted.

They dragged her stuff down the stairs and up to the back door of the bookshop. Even though it was still early, Lance, Kerri, Renfield and the baby were there to see them off. This was the moment Paige had been dreading from even before she’d received the call from her mother.

“You’re not going to let me out of here easily, are you?” she said as she studied the faces of her friends.

“No,” Lance teased. “We’re going to make you feel just as guilty as we possibly can.”

Kerri jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Not guilty, we just want you to remember us, that’s all.”

“Remember!” Paige cried as she ran into Kerri’s arms. “How could I ever forget? You guys saved my life! Mine and Mere’s. I could never forget or repay –”

“No repayment necessary,” Renfield interrupted. “Just be safe and take care of Meredith. Coming to visit occasionally wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Ray, why’s my Momma crying? If she’s sad, maybe we don’t have to go.”

Ray squatted down in front of her. “Sweetheart, you ‘n yer Mommy have ta go. You have ta take care a yer Grandpa ‘n that great big house with the pool. You can go swimming every day, even in the winter. Won’t that be fun?”

Ray’s attempts to change her mind fell on deaf ears. “I’d rather stay here,” she whined.

“We need to go, Mere,” Paige sniffed without looking at her daughter. “We’ll miss our plane. If it’s still good, we’ll accept that offer of a ride, Ray.”

Paige gave Kerri one last, long hug and then hugged Lance and Renfield. She hurried out of the shop without looking back.

____________________________________

Kerri placed Beth gently into her crib and stood staring at her angelic face. Lately, since Beth came to live with them, Kerri’s favorite time of the day was 2am, Beth’s feeding time. It was so quiet and peaceful then, a time when she could hold her daughter, rock them both to sleep, or in hushed tones tell her about how much she was loved, or just stare in wonderment at the life that God had given them. Sometimes it scared her just how blessed she and Renfield had become.

As she stared at her daughter now, she was overcome with a heavy feeling of melancholy. She had everything in the world she had ever wanted, and yet she felt so uneasy. And she knew why.

Reluctantly, she left Beth sleeping and made her way silently downstairs. Wandering around the darkened bookshop, she couldn’t shake the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Everything was changing and she was so afraid she wouldn’t be able to deal with it.

Everyone, including Renfield, had told her to be happy for Paige and Lance. They were moving on to new and exciting times in their young lives. But all Kerri could feel was sadness. She’d never had any family to speak of and had eagerly adopted both of her employees as the siblings she’d never had. So, it seemed no one really understood how upset she was now that Paige was gone, and Lance would be leaving in a few days.

She continued to wander around the shop in the pale illumination of the streetlights outside. She wouldn’t have needed even that, however, as she knew the aisles and corners of this place as well as she knew her own body. Her bookshop had really become an extension of herself, sometimes so real to her that she could almost hear its heartbeat. 

As she had done the day that Renfield announced to the world that he had given the shop to her, she walked the aisles, running her hands over the worn wood of the shelves and the rough bindings of the used books. She came to stand in the entrance to the reading room and her mood shifted.

She thought about the numerous times that she and Lance watched the children burst from Mister Mountie’s spell after he’d finished reading to them. Sometimes they laughed until they cried upon seeing Renfield and his friends in their crazy quilt assortment of costumes. Sometimes she thought she’d burst with love for the wonderful man she’d married. Sometimes Lance would smile and roll his eyes at Renfield, in total disbelief that such a man could possibly exist.

Kerri knew that between Paige and Lance she would miss Lance more. He was such a special man, she didn’t know how she would ever do without him. Even though he had recommended another student from Northwestern, she was sure that the young woman could never replace him. Kirsten was young, smart and energetic, but she was no Lance.

Kerri was about to turn away from Renfield’s reading room when two warm, strong arms encircled her. “I missed you,” Renfield whispered into her hair. “I woke up and your side of the bed was cold. When you weren’t with Beth, I figured I’d find you here. You’re feeling down, huh?”

“Not really,” she lied. Renfield had accused her of being selfish in not wanting Lance and Paige to leave. She didn’t want him to believe that of her again.

“Yes, you are. You’re sad because you think our family is breaking up,” he said as he turned her to face him. Even in the dim light he could see the truth of his words in her eyes. “We’re not breaking up, sweetheart. We have too much love for that to ever happen. They’re putting some miles between us, but that’s not anywhere near the same thing.”

“It’s just the changes,” she sighed. “Everything was so perfect with them here. It’s taken so long for us to get to this point. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish –”

“– I wish I’d never said that! You’re not selfish and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. That’s why you haven’t been sharing your feelings about this with me, isn’t it? You think I’ll think less of you.”

Kerri’s sigh told him he was right. “I’m so sorry. All I’ve done is make you feel worse. Please forgive me? I should have realized that you’re just trying to build a family around you, something you’ve never had.”

Kerri relaxed against his chest. He perceptive husband was right again. Hadn’t she said just a few days ago that that was something she hated – that he was always right? She smiled now, no she didn’t hate it, she loved the fact that he was always right.

“Our family may be getting a little smaller under this roof, but it’s getting much larger over distance. Just think of all the places we’ll be able to go to visit everyone.”

Kerri chuckled against his chest. “No matter where they move, I’m sure I’ve already been there!”

They were smiling as they climbed the stairs to their apartment, hand in hand.

Chapter 10

They crossed the border into Washington State. Crossing there was fairly easy and completely uneventful because few were expecting them this far west, and no one was looking for them at this particular border crossing.

She’d known as soon as she’d seen the sign. She had to wonder why she hadn’t thought of it before. But now that she knew, she had no idea what to do about it. All her plans, all their plans, just flew south with the Canada geese overhead.

They had crossed into the US at Laurier, Washington, Norman laughing hysterically as they drove away. She now knew where they were going and what he intended to do. He was going to avenge the murder of his stepbrother, René Laurier. And entering the country through a town of the same name appealed to his diabolical sense of irony. In fact the irony just tickled him to death.

They drove on for a few more hours before she knew she had to do something, and very soon. Against her better judgment, she spoke up. “Normie, could we stop and get something to eat? I’m really hungry, and we haven’t stopped since we crossed the border. There’s a town coming up, could we stop for just a few minutes?”

“Sign says 45 miles to Missoula. We’ll stop there. Bound to be a truck stop.”

“But Normie, I need to use the washroom, too. Plllease, can’t we stop?” she pleaded.

“If it’ll shut you up, just do it!”

She pulled off the highway in the tiny mountain town of Alberton, and into a huge truck stop at the base of the off ramp.

“Is this okay, Normie?”

“Just park the car,” he sniped.

It was snowing softly as they trudged through the icy parking lot, Norman’s hat and coat once again fulfilling their duties admirably.

She followed his previous instructions to the letter in asking for a booth away from windows and as close to the kitchen as they could get. Norman sat with his back to the room and slid to the far corner of the booth. Not giving the waitress even the time to tell them that her name was Thelma and she’d be their server today, Norman ordered two burgers, fries and coffee and sent Thelma on her way.

“Just shut up and go use the washroom,” Norman ordered, before she had even asked to be excused.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she smiled as she slipped out of the booth.

She’d spotted what she needed right after entering the place – it was on the wall between the signs for ‘Cowgirls’ and ‘Cowboys’. Looking nervously over her shoulder, she was just about to reach for the phone when she saw Norman slide out of the booth.

Before he spotted her, she turned quickly and stepped through the Cowgirls door. Leaning back against it, she had to will her heart to stop pounding. That had been too close. When the hell was she going to get the chance to make the call? Norman was with her every minute of every day, even the few times they slept. 

They drove on. That is, she drove and Norman rode. The farther east they went the more panicked she became. Getting ever closer to what she knew to be his ultimate destination, Norman was becoming less and less agreeable to her requests for rest stops.

Finally, just outside of the tiny town of Racine, Minnesota, she saw a sign for a rest area. Deciding it was now or never, she didn’t ask, she told Norman they were stopping.

“I’ve been driving for 12 hours! I have to go to the washroom. Go back to sleep, I’ll just be a minute.” Norman must have been very tired, because he made little objection. 

She pulled into an empty space on the far side of a huge SUV, ostensibly to keep anyone using the facilities from spotting Norman sleeping in the car. But, the SUV also blocked Norman’s view of the public phone that stood, like a statue, in front of the cinder block building.

She knew she would be completely exposed making the call, but she also knew she had no choice. Someone had to know what was happening, and where they were headed. She hurried, almost ran, to the phone and fumbled with the change it took to place the call. She’d known for the last several hours who she had to call, and it was not the person or persons she would have called a mere two days ago. No, they were far too close to Chicago now. So she placed the call to the only person on the planet that she was sure would know exactly how to handle the situation.

It was only a few seconds before the call rang through and the person on the other end of the line answered.

“Vecchio,” he said, just as the line went dead.

____________________________________

Norman took the receiver from her hand gently, and slowly and very deliberately hung it up. “Who you calling, huh, Baby? Got somebody on the side, huh? Or you trying to call the cops? Huh, Baby?” he breathed into her face, his nose almost touching hers, the cold fury blazing in his eyes.

“No, Normie, I-I was j-just calling my m-mom. She doesn’t know wh-where I am,” she tried valiantly to explain, the fear having turned her body to ice.

Norman took her wrist between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, harder and harder, until she almost went to the ground with the pain. “Normie, you’re hurting me! Please stop, I’m telling you the truth, I was just trying to call my mom in Detroit!”

Norman did not ease the pressure on her wrist, as he pulled her arm around her back and pushed her around the side of the washroom building. “Too damn bad really,” he whispered, with his lips pressed against her ear.

He pushed her to the back of the building, past the trash cans, across a narrow gravel service road, and into the trees at the back of the busy rest area. Their feet left deep impressions as they trudged through the snow, farther and farther away from the prying eyes of the people stopping to use the facilities. He was disappointed that he didn’t have a weapon with him, but oh well, his fists would have to do.

“Normie,” she begged, “I was just calling my Mom. She’s probably worried about me! She’s sick and I don’t want her upset! Please Normie, you’re hurting me!”

As soon as he was sure they were out of sight, he stopped. “Who you work for, huh, Baby? Marcel? Thinks he’s taking over the Family. Didn’t know I knew that, did you, honey? Isn’t much goes on in the Family I don’t know about. Didn’t know about you, though. But that’s okay, cause you won’t be around much longer, anyway.”

Without letting go of her arm, he bent and quickly picked up a rock about the size of a Idaho russet baking potato almost completely buried in the snow. Her fear, blinding her common sense and extensive training, had her convincing herself that she could make Norman believe her, so the blow to her head actually took her by surprise.

When she hit the ground, she saw her own blood splatter all over the pristine snow, and she knew she was dead. She struggled and fought back as best she could, in her stunned condition, but as the rock pounded into her again and again, she was no match for the stronger man. Finally, her screams died away, having gone completely unheard over the sounds of the semi-trucks entering and leaving the highway access road beyond. 

Norman was careful. Killing a woman meant less than nothing to him, other than getting his hands dirty. But at least the bitch hadn’t splattered any blood on his good shirt.

He bent to clean his hands and the rock with the pristine snow, before plodding back toward the car. Tossing the rock carelessly to the ground, and arranging his clothes as he went, Norman thought she had put up an amazingly good fight. So much so that his coat had been torn. Damn bitch, he thought, his coat cost a hell of a lot more than she was worth! 

Now she had ruined his plans, too. But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, he was pretty sure Minneapolis was not far north of here, so he’d just have to continue his trip by plane. Thank God he wouldn’t have to listen to those constant questions any more. He probably should give Marcel a quick call though, just to let him know that his plans for the Family weren’t going to work out as well as he thought they would. Poor Marcel. Asshole.

It took Norman less than two hours to find his way to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. Unfortunately, the next flight to Chicago wasn’t for several hours, so he passed the time hiding in a stall in the men’s room.

At 7:45pm on Thursday evening, James Burnside aka Norman McGill took his seat in the almost empty first class section of Northwest Airlines flight 1293. Refusing to give the flight attendant his coat, claiming he wasn’t feeling well and was chilly, he endured the entire flight wrapped tightly in the coat that almost completely obscured his face.

Chapter 11

“Bobby?” the female voice crackled over the cruiser’s radio. “Ya there?”

“Course I’m here, Peggy, where the heck else would I be?” came the broken reply through the static. “Cruisin over near Sargeant. What’s up?”

“Just got a CB call from Jimmie Vickers. Thinks there’s something goin’ down over at the Racine rest stop.”

“Ah, come on, Peggy,” Sheriff Malone whined. “Ya know ya can’t believe a word the dang fool says. Ever since them aliens snatched him outta his truck on April Fool’s Day he’s been seein’ little green guys in every county he drives through. I go investigatin’ one of his sightin’s and I’ll be the laughin’ stock of five counties.”

“You must be close ta the mile post 63 transformer, yer really breakin’ up,” Peggy shouted through the static. “This un sounds a little different, Bobby. Says he saw a guy and a girl go off in to the woods. Probably drugs or sumpthin’.”

“Little green men, jay walking, bar fights,” Bob muttered, “drugs’d certainly break up the monotony.”

“What? Can’t hear ya, Bobby.”

“I said I’m on my way! Out,” he shouted into the mic, before placing it back in its holder. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll use the siren!” he fumed.

Sheriff Robert Malone was actually very good at his job. He took a great deal of pride in keeping the jay walkers, rowdies with too much liquor in them, and even the little green men under control in his county. But Mower County had a lot of miles to cover, and he just hated following up on a call that he knew would go exactly nowhere – because Jimmie Vickers was a nut case.

Vickers was a former over the road trucker who’d lost his job when Consolidated Freight filed for bankruptcy a few months back. Now he drove for whoever had the freight to haul and the price to pay, mostly short distances, intrastate. And the more jobs he got, the more little green men sightings the county sheriffs had to deal with.

Jimmie was still waiting on the sidewalk next to his truck when Sheriff Malone grudgingly arrived, barely 30 minutes later. Jimmie was on him before Bobby could even get out of the patrol car.

“You sure took yer own sweet time gettin’ here. Guy’s probably to Minneapolis by now!”

“Just tell me where the aliens are ‘n let’s get this over with,” Bobby demanded.

“Didn’t see no space guys this time, Bobby. Saw a guy pushin’ a lady into Foster’s Woods, but when he came out he was by himself. Woulda gone in ta see myself, but yer always tellin’ me not ta be messin’ with no crime scene, or nothin’.”

“Stay right here, and don’t you even think about movin’ a muscle! I’ll be right back!”

Sheriff Malone was a big man, tall, and heavy, too. He’d been meaning to work on his weight for the last several years, but just never seemed to get around to it. But his huge bulk, plus his heavy holster, gun, nightstick and other assorted cop paraphernalia hanging from his body, didn’t stop him from running across the parking lot and through the calf-deep snow at full tilt.

Even in the rapidly fading daylight, it didn’t take any time at all for him to find her, the tracks in the fresh snow being a dead giveaway. With the large amount of blood that had soaked into the snow and the damage he could see to her face, Bobby was sure she was dead.

When he felt for her pulse and listened for any signs of breathing, however, he was shocked to find a faint flutter. He drew her torn coat around her as best he could, while radioing to Peggy for an ambulance.

He then shouted for Jimmie and got back on the radio.  
____________________________________

“I’ve told ya over ‘n over I didn’t see no license plate number! It was a dark blue Taurus, pro’bly new. Big black SUV pulled out right behind him, sos I couldn’t see the plate.” Jimmie thought for a moment, “coulda been a rental, ya know? Them’s the kinda car most a the rental places use.”

Now that was a good idea, Bobby thought, especially since he’d already thought of it.

Both men fell silent as they watched the EMTs carry the stretcher with the lifeless form out of the trees, through the snow and slide it into the waiting ambulance. They watched as Phil and Brian, men they had both known for years, piled into the ambulance and drove off, siren wailing. 

“She gonna make it?” Jimmie asked quietly.

“Guy beat the crap outta her,” Bobby whispered. “Don’t look good.” Seeing the crestfallen look on Jimmie’s face, Bobby hurried to add, “you did good, buddy. Reported it just as quick as ya could. You may a saved her life.” Bobby patted Jimmie on the back and went to his car to follow the ambulance.

____________________________________

Ray looked at the phone curiously as he stuffed it back in his pocket. The line had gone dead.

“No one there?” Fraser asked from across the desk.

“Not anyone that wanted to talk to me. Story of my life, always someone’s wrong number.” Vecchio muttered to no one in particular. “We probably ought to get outta here if we want to get that stuff for the shower.”

Fraser smiled at his friend. Ray had volunteered to pick up all the food for Kerri’s baby shower. By getting it tonight instead of tomorrow, they both avoided the risk of being asked to help with the decorating. And more, much more importantly, avoided being forced to attend.

Without actually speaking what they were both thinking, both men shuddered involuntarily as they left the 27th Precinct, in search of a supermarket, and the bakery where Meg had ordered a Winnie the Pooh cake. Whatever that was.

____________________________________

The nearest emergency room was only ten miles away, in Stewartville. Fortunately for the injured young woman, the trip was quick and the treatment would be top notch.

Like Sheriff Malone, Dr. Cannon took her work with the rural community very seriously. In her 10 years of being the only doctor for 50 miles, she had seen her share of routine maladies and major emergencies. Running a small clinic, so near to a major interstate, meant that she had also seen her share of horrific vehicle accident victims.

But she had never seen anything like this young woman the EMTs had just brought in. The damage to this body was done, not by farm machinery, a wild animal or even another car, this damage was done by another human being – intentionally. And the damage sickened her.

As Dr. Cannon struggled to keep her patient alive, Sheriff Malone and Phil, the ambulance driver, tried to put together what might have happened.

“No ID? No purse or nothin’ at the scene?”

“Nope. Must a left it in the car. No ring, so she’s pro’bly not the guy’s wife. Maybe kidnap?” Bobby thought out loud. “Nah, doesn’t feel right.”

“Maybe domestic thing? Doesn’t have to be a ring.”

“How bout her clothes? Any tags?”

“Coat’s got a label, says ‘The Bay’. What the heck kinda store’s that?”

Bobby thought for just a moment. “Hudson Bay Company, Canadian store. Aileen went there when we took that trip to Niagara Falls.”

“You think she’s Canadian?”

“Maybe Jimmie did finally spot him an alien,” Bobby whispered. Neither one of them thought that was the least bit funny.

“Hey, wait a minute. Feels like there’s something in the pocket.” Phil turned the pocket inside out, but there was nothing there. “There’s something here, I can feel it. There’s something inside the lining.”

Bobby grabbed the heavy coat from Phil and ripped the lining. Just below the flap of fabric that comprised the pocket was a small business card sized scrap of paper. The card was handwritten, in a man’s writing, and said ‘Ray 312-555-0372’.

“Phone number,” Phil breathed.

“Chicago area code. Maybe now we’re getting somewhere.”

Bobby hurried across the hall and made the call from Dr. Cannon’s office. Glancing at her desk, Bobby wondered how someone who ran such a spic-n-span clinic could have such a messy work area.

“Vecchio!” the angry man answered. “And if you’re gonna hang up, DON’T CALL BACK!”

“Mr. Vecchio, I’m Sheriff Robert Malone, Mower County, Minnesota.” 

________________________

By midnight, James Burnside, or Norman McGill, depending on who was asking, was snuggly ensconced in an opulent suite in Chicago’s Downtown Marriott Hotel. More than a little pleased with himself, he had settled in front of a blazing fire and taken the time to think about how brilliantly things had turned out. But as he lounged there, in the luxury he felt was his due, a growing sense of unease crept over him.

And even after an excellent late night Italian meal of scaloppine di vitello con limone e finocchio, an entire bottle of a rather good Chianti, and a bubble bath in a tub bigger than the average person’s entire bathroom, Norman still could not shake the uneasy feeling.

He was just tired, he finally convinced himself. It had been a long trip, and an even longer two weeks. If the idiots that surrounded him had half a brain between them, he would have been able to turn some of his numerous responsibilities over to them. But, of course, they were all as dumb as a stump, so all the weight of managing this huge organization fell to Norman alone. And he managed it beautifully, if he did say so himself.

The thought that his unease might be caused by the fact that he had just murdered a beautiful young woman or was about to murder a Mountie by the name of Turnbull, never even occurred to him. It never occurred to him to shoulder the blame for anything that happened.

He finished off the wine, drowsing in the tub. Finally, he climbed out of the water that had cooled significantly, stumbling heavily as he went to double check the locks on the door. He almost didn’t make it across the huge sitting room and into the bedroom before he collapsed, spread eagle, on the king sized bed, where he passed out.

Naked, with his face buried in the antique satin comforter, Norman snored and snorted the night away. He did not awaken until well after noon the next day.

Chapter 12

“What can I do for you, Sheriff Malone?” Ray asked, with just passing interest. He was more interested in finding something called butter mints, not the multi-colored kind, but the yellow kind that Francesca had demanded, and this store seemed to have hidden somewhere other than the candy isle.

“Fraser,” Ray shouted in a whisper, the mouthpiece of the phone turned up against his forehead, “try over there with the flour.”

When Fraser gave him his patented ‘well that’s just silly, Ray’ look, Ray snapped at him. “Just do it, or we’re gonna spend the rest of the night in this place! Sorry, Sheriff, you were saying?”

“I was saying,” Bobby barked into the phone, “we’ve got an accident victim here in our ER who had your phone number hidden in the lining her coat, but no identification.”

“This number?” Ray asked, suddenly turning his full attention to the phone conversation. “No ID?”

“No sir. We’re just wondering if you have any idea –”

“Look Sheriff, uh,” Ray struggled to remember the man’s name, “Malone, I’m a Lieutenant with the Chicago PD. Why don’t you give me the whole story.”

Confused, surprised and relieved, Bobby filled Ray in. “Woman, I’m guessing late twenties, long blonde hair. Man driving a dark blue, probably rented, Taurus beat the crap outta her ‘n left her ta die in a snow bank. Only other thing we got at this point is her coat. Label says ‘The Bay’, so she may be Canadian.”

“How bad?” Ray asked, mildly concerned.

“Doc doesn’t know yet. Not good. Hasn’t regained consciousness. Look, Lieutenant, you’d be doin’ us, ‘n her, a big favor if you could make a quick trip over here an see if you can ID her. Without that, we don’t have anything to go on.”

“Well…” Ray stalled.

“Look, it’s only gonna take about two hours for you to get here, ‘n I got no idea when, or if, she’ll wake up. ‘N ya must know her, or at least she knows you. The number’s written on a piece a paper in what looks ta me ta be a man’s hand.” 

“Okay,” Ray finally agreed. He had to admit he was becoming more and more concerned. “I work with a Mountie. Since she may be Canadian, he’ll come with me.” Ray looked at his watch. “Give me a few hours to get a couple of loose ends tied up, deliver a cake, and get a flight and we’ll meet you at the hospital. Where’d you say it was again? Stewart-burg?”

“Stewart-ville!” Bobby snapped. He’d never liked the attitude of big city cops, and he sure didn’t like this guy’s. Deliver a cake?  
____________________________________

Ray and Fraser met Bobby Malone at the clinic just before dawn the next morning.

The clinic was much smaller than Ray or Fraser expected, with a parking lot that could only hold about 10 cars. The front door also served as the emergency entrance. The building was old, but the interior was spotless and looked to be just a smaller version of any big city hospital.

“Thanks for comin’,” Bobby said, sarcastically, as they walked across the tiny lobby and toward the two bed ER. “Doc thinks she’s gonna make it. She set the broken bones ‘n cleaned up her face, but poor thing’s still pretty much a mess, got lots of internal injuries. Still unconscious. Apparently the guy hit her with a rock - repeatedly. Sent it to the lab in Minneapolis. Hope you can tell who she is, face is really messed up, but we haven’t got much else ta go on.”

Bobby pulled back the privacy curtain, for Ray to look into the severally battered, distorted face of someone he recognized immediately. 

____________________________________

“Sweet Mother of God!” Ray breathed and was by her side instantly. Touching her face tenderly, tears streaming down his, he spoke to her. “Who did this to you, honey?” He could hardly bear to touch her, knowing he had to be hurting her. “God,” he cried, “how could this have happened?” Tears were raining onto her hospital gown but she never opened her eyes.

“Lieutenant, who –”

Fraser interrupted the Sheriff by taking his arm and pulling him out of the room.

“Look, Mr. –”

“It’s Constable, Sheriff. Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He knows her, we both know her. Her name is Sheila LaRue, at least that’s the name she went by when she was undercover with Ray, in Las Vegas. She’s an FBI agent, Sheriff,” Fraser sighed as he looked toward the ER. “A very good undercover agent, and a very good friend.” Especially to Ray, he thought.

Bobby was astounded. “Then she’s not Canadian,” he whispered.

“No, she’s from California, if I remember correctly. But,” he mused, picking up Sheila’s coat from a chair, “it seems she’s been to Canada recently, very recently.” He looked at the ‘Bay’ label in the coat, “the coat is new and was purchased in Quebec.”

“French writing on the back of the label?”

“Most all clothing made in Canada has bilingual labels, but The Bay always places crossed Canadian and French labels in the lining of clothing sold at their Quebec stores,” Fraser said, showing Malone the tag stitched in a seam near the hem of the coat.

“Doesn’t tell us much, though. I put out an ABP for blue Fords with Canadian plates. It’s a long shot, car was probably rented once they crossed the border.”

Fraser didn’t hear the Sheriff, his attention being caught by Ray, who was just coming out of Sheila’s room.

Wiping tears from his cheeks, Ray didn’t even see Fraser or Sheriff Malone. He headed directly for a bank of chairs in the waiting area across the hall. Fraser hurried to sit by his friend.

Ray didn’t look up. “She’s hurt real bad, Benny. Who could have done this? How could anyone do something –”

“We’ll find him, Ray. When Sheila wakes up, she’ll give us the information we need to find him.”

“She is going to wake up! She has to wake up! I’ve missed her ever since the day she left,” he whispered, just realizing for the first time how much he’d missed her.

“I know you have,” Fraser said, placing his hand on Ray’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Sheriff Malone came to stand near where the two friends sat. He waited a few moments before he realized they had not noticed him. Clearing his throat to announce his presence and to ease his embarrassment at interrupting an obviously private moment, he began, “I’ve put out an all points for a blue Taurus with Canadian plates, but this close to the border there’s gonna be a bunch a them. Lieutenant, you got any idea how –”

“It’s Ray, and no, I don’t have any idea how this happened. The last time I saw her she was on her way to another undercover assignment. But that was well over a year ago. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“She bought her coat at a Hudson Bay store in Quebec, Ray. She’s spent some time in Canada, very recently,” Fraser said.

“You know the FBI doesn’t work in Canada, Benny. She was probably on vacation or something.”

“Unless her undercover work involved Canadians,” Fraser mused. “Ray, did she give you any indication –”

“I told you, no!” Ray yelled and then hung his head. “I’m sorry, Benny. I just should have been there to help her, you know? That’s what we did for each other the whole time in Vegas, watched each other’s back. You know how much I owe her?” Ray was on the verge of tears again, both Fraser and Malone could see it. Bobby was more than just a little curious about why Vecchio was in Las Vegas to begin with, but now was not the time to ask. “The last time I saw her all she said was she’d made them bring her to see me. She wanted me to know she was still alive and not to worry. Jeez, Benny, I should have known something was wrong!”

“There’s no way you could have known, Ray. Sheila is a very good agent,” Fraser whispered quietly. “She knows how to handle herself. Maybe this has nothing to do with whatever her current assignment is.” Fraser looked at Malone. “We need to get a hold of the local FBI.” 

“Just put a call in ta the Minneapolis office,” Bobby said. “Said they’d get right back ta me.” Bobby hesitated just a moment, then said, “look, you guys’ve been up all night. It’s almost dawn. We got a couple a spare rooms over at our house, kids both away at college. Wife said ta make ya come over ‘n catch a little sack time. She’ll even cook ya some breakfast. Doc Cannon can give ya a call when Sheila wakes up.” 

“We don’t want to impose, Sheriff,” Fraser said.

“Bigger imposition if ya don’t come. Aileen’s already started cookin’.” Bobby hesitated again. He really didn’t like big city cops, but this guy was obviously hurting for this lady, so he felt sorry for him. “Look, Vec – Ray, ya need ta get some rest. House is only five minutes away. When she wakes up, it’ll only be a few minutes ‘n ya can be right back here. Wife makes pretty darn good waffles.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. If you’ll give us directions –”

“Do ya one better, just follow me,” Bobby shoved his hat on his head and led them to the parking lot.

____________________________________

Bobby and Aileen Malone’s house was a small, brick rancher with a huge porch across the entire front and a carport rather than a garage. It was a modest home, but as they entered through the kitchen door at the rear of the house, Fraser immediately noticed the loving care that went in to the gardens. Even with six inches of snow on the ground, he could still see the shoveled brick paths and lighted water features in the back yard. The deck held numerous empty flower pots that, come spring, would be ablaze with color.

“You’ve got a nice place here, Sheriff. Nice big yard,” Fraser said.

“Aileen loves to garden,” was Bobby’s only comment.

Apparently Aileen loved to decorate too, because their home was as inviting on the inside as Fraser knew it to be on the outside. They stomped the snow off their shoes in the mudroom before proceeding into Aileen’s spotless kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and waffles greeting them before they even opened the door.

Aileen bustled about the kitchen in jeans and a sweatshirt, with fuzzy pink slippers on her feet. The only indication that she had been sleeping just a few minutes earlier was the slight disarray of her graying hair.

“Here you got a good friend in Judy Cannon’s clinic,” she said as her husband introduced first Fraser, then Ray. “Already got the prayer chain working on it. Lots of prayers going up for her, as we speak,” she stated, matter-of-factly, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Ray was touched beyond words. “Thanks,” was all he could manage to say.

“We certainly do appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Malone,” Fraser said.

“Aileen,” she said as she pulled another waffle out of the waffle iron. “One thing about small towns, we help each other. Bobby says she got beat up pretty bad. Well, my Bobby’s a darn good cop, he’ll catch ‘em. One thing we don’t tolerate round here is men beatin’ up on women.”

“Honey,” Bobby whispered as he hugged her, “these men are cops too. More ‘n likely they’ll be the ones that catch the SOB that did this. He’s probably long gone outta Mower County by now.”

Aileen smiled sheepishly at the other two police officers in her kitchen. “Sorry, no offense. I’m sure you’re good cops, too.”

Fraser smiled over a cup of delicious coffee. “None taken, ma’am. And actually I’m a Constable with the RCMP.”

“A Mountie! Love those red outfits you wear,” Aileen gushed.

His mind taken temporarily off Sheila, Ray just rolled his eyes.

They ate a huge breakfast of waffles, with Vermont maple syrup (Aileen apologized that it wasn’t Canadian), bacon and eggs. She made sure that Ray ate well, explaining that his friend wouldn’t be pleased if she thought Ray might make himself sick worrying about her. Ray ate everything Aileen served because she was indeed a wonderful cook, and because she was right – Sheila had always been concerned about his eating habits.

Aileen insisted that they make themselves at home in the little house, furnishing towels and whatever else they might need, and elicited a promise from Ray that if he needed to spend any more time in Stewartville, he would spend it right here.

Aileen may have coaxed Ray into eating a good meal, but all the coaxing in the world wouldn’t have helped him sleep. After taking a short shower, he went to Mark’s room to try to get some sleep. He surveyed the young man’s room with a smile. Even though he was a college man now, Mark’s room looked much like any other small town high school boy’s room must have looked. Football trophies shared the dresser top with track ribbons and a pretty young cheerleader’s picture. Posters of his idols papered the walls and red and blue checkered valances adorned the two windows that overlooked Aileen’s garden in the backyard.

Exhausted, Ray fell into bed, but even though he hadn’t had any sleep for over 24 hours, he just couldn’t relax enough to close his eyes. Thoughts of Sheila and the time they spent together in Las Vegas just would not leave him alone. And he remembered the day she had met him by the lake. He hadn’t recognized her at first. She’d put her hair back to its natural blonde color and had taken out the colored contact lenses. Even the breast implants were gone. But he’d recognized her voice. He’d been scared, thinking he was seeing a ghost, but she’d assured him that she was real.

God, how thrilled he’d been that she was alive! He’d known she would have to move on, but just knowing she was alive had literally changed his life. And now some bastard had tried to kill her. 

Ray knew that if he could get his hands on the son of a bitch at this moment he would kill him with his bare hands.

Chapter 13

“No, I don’t wanna leave a message! Keep ringing, I know he’s there!”

The hotel operator sighed and left the rude caller to listen to the unanswered ringing. If he wanted to waste his time, then let him.

He let the phone ring for another five minutes, and was content to let it go on ringing, when the occupant of room 1412 finally answered.

“Whaaat?” came the muffled response.

“Boss, that you? Where ya been? Phone’s been ringing for ten minutes.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 1:30. I thought ya was gonna call me at 10:00.”

“Shit! Why didn’t you wake me, you idiot!” Norman was finally awake enough to feel his head pounding, which made him even angrier than usual.

“Sorry, boss! I’ve been tryin’. Ya told me not ta come ta the hotel, remember?”

“Just shut up, you moron. Of course I remember what I told you!” Norman struggled to sit up on the bed and clear his hung-over head. “We’ve still got plenty of time. Did you do as I instructed?”

“Yeah, Boss, got it right here. 357 magnum, just like ya like. Who ya gonna off, Boss?”

“God damn it, will you shut up!” Yelling hurt his head and made him even angrier, which made his head hurt all the more. “Just shut up,” he whispered. “Did you have any trouble getting across the border?”

“Nah. Just drove right on through. Asked me a couple a questions ‘n waved me on.”

“What about the guy you bought the gun from?”

“Nah, this is the good ole’ US of A. Any gun, if ya got the price, ‘n know the right guy.”

“Serial number?”

“Nope. I’m smarter then that, Boss.”

The hell you are, Norman thought, and then wished he hadn’t. At the moment thinking hurt too much.

“Okay, meet me at the corner of Madison and 1st at 5:30,” Norman ordered. That would give him time for a nice hot shower, and if he felt better, a good meal before meeting with his associates, wasting Turnbull and getting on with the rest of his plan.

“But it’ll be dark then, Boss.”

“Afraid of the dark, Chuckie? Of course it’ll be dark, you moron! You think I’m going to stand on a public street in broad daylight?”

“Sorry, Boss,” Chuck pouted.

Norman didn’t hear Chuck, however. He hung up the phone before the idiot had a chance to respond.

Just as he’d done at Le Chateau, Norman ordered room service prior to getting into the shower. He knew he’d feel well enough to eat after a long steam, and if he didn’t, so what if he wasted the food. No big deal.

He sang to himself as he stood in the shower. Once the fog in his head lifted, he began to feel quite a bit better, as he’d known he would. Things were really going well, if he did say so himself. The minor glitch of Sheila working for Marcel had actually worked to his benefit. Flying the rest of the way to Chicago had shortened that torturous trip nicely.

And if Chuck had scoped out Turnbull’s comings and goings as he’d been instructed, in a few hours the primary reason for coming all this way would be accomplished. Then he could concentrate on more important matters – getting his family back in line and making some money.

Chapter 14

“I know it’s not a surprise but keep her out of here!” Meg yelled at Lance as he and Kerri started up the stairs. “She’ll see it after the decorations are done.”

“Oh, come on, Meg,” Kerri shouted from behind the Lance barricade, “what’s it going to hurt for me to see what you’re doing to my apartment? Ray let me see the cake when he brought it in last night.”

Meg turned to Frannie. “Remind me to murder your brother the next time I see him!” she laughed.

Frannie stopped stringing crêpe paper over the living room curtains just long enough to laugh out loud. “I think bout killin’ him a lot. You may need ta stand in line.”

Meg set Mrs. Vecchio’s crystal punch bowl in the middle of the dining room table and began to fill it with fruit juice. “Okay, where are we going to set the cake? It’s so pretty, I want to give it a place of honor.”

“How about right next to the punch bowl? With enough vodka in it, everyone will see the cake on the way to the refill their glasses,” Frannie laughed.

“You’re sure vodka’s okay? I’m a little worried about the women who don’t drink.”

“Thought a that! Ma’s bringing a smaller punch bowl for the non-alcoholic stuff. We’re not out a crêpe paper, are we?” Frannie asked, coming to the end of yet another roll. 

“No, there’s more in the bag with the paper plates and the centerpiece. I think Winnie the Pooh was a great idea for a theme, by the way. Wait until you see the comforter and dust ruffle I got for the crib. It’s the old fashioned Pooh, looks like something right out of the original story.” 

Frannie was still amazed that Meg had gotten so worked up for the shower. She had never realized that Meg loved children so much, or was so good with them, she certainly doted on Liza. Every time she saw Meg holding Liza she had to wonder if Meg and Fraser would ever have children of their own. But she figured that Fraser and Thatcher were just old fashioned enough that there’d have to be a marriage first. And Frannie had to agree. That was the correct order of things.

“Earth to Francesca. I said I’ve got another surprise too. I bought Liz a riding habit!”

“Isn’t she a little tiny ta be ridin’ horses?” Frannie asked, shocked at the idea.

“Well,” Meg admitted, “it will be a little big for her, the smallest I could get was a size 5.”

Frannie laughed out loud. “With as little as this kid is, she won’t be able to wear it for about 6 years!”

“Well, at least I can say I got her first one!”

Frannie thought that Mounties sure had a thing for horses. “There,” she announced as she climbed off the step stool and admired her handiwork. “Whaddya think?”

Meg looked at the curtains and the recliner that Frannie had moved in front of them. She’d taken pink streamers and ribbons, and with the addition of about a thousand pink and white balloons, turned the chair into a throne and the curtains the frame of the stage where it sat. All that was left was the addition of Beth’s bassinet. They saved that for last because it was currently in use – downstairs in the bookshop, where Mary Elizabeth was fast asleep.

“It looks very beautiful, Frannie. Come see what I’ve done with the dining room table.” Meg had scattered pink rose and multi colored pansy petals all over the table, around the punch bowl and cake. In the punch, she’d floated pink roses frozen in a clear ice ring. The whole effect was very feminine – exactly as Meg had wanted.

“Ya know, this place looks great, really great.” Frannie gave Meg a high five, and Meg slapped her hand with a giggle. “We make a pretty good team, if I do say so myself.”

“We sure do.”

The guests (all women, no men allowed tonight) were scheduled to arrive at 6:00, so that gave them just over an hour to put the finishing touches on the room, keep Kerri out, put out the remainder of the snacks, and finish wrapping Mary Elizabeth’s presents. Since Meg had gotten all the fun, as Frannie called it, stuff, it was left to Frannie to get such mundane gifts as crib sheets and bath towels. But luckily for her, Frannie found everything she was looking for in a Winnie the Pooh motif. Poor Lizzie, Frannie thought, was going to be sick of Pooh by the time she was one year old!

____________________________________

“Ah, come on! Just one little peek! What could it hurt?” Kerri whined.

“Me – that’s who it could hurt! No way I’m going to incur the wrath of one Italian powerhouse and one female Mountie, even if she doesn’t carry a gun. No way!” Lance countered. “I’m leaving here in two days and I’d prefer to leave alive!”

“So you’d rather incur my wrath?” Kerri pouted, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“YES!”

Kerri turned and stomped away, but Lance knew she wasn’t really upset, she was enjoying this whole experience far too much to be angry. He watched as Kerri went behind the front counter and picked Beth up out of the bassinet. 

“Did you hear that?” Lance heard her whisper to her daughter. “Your Uncle Lance doesn’t love us anymore. He won’t even let us see the pretty decorations upstairs. Isn’t that –”

“Hey, no one said anything about Bethy! I’ll show her anything she wants to see.” Lance grinned at his favorite little girl.

“Traitor!” Kerri muttered under her breath.

Mrs. Vecchio arrived just in time to break up the friendly argument. Lance had to run to help her with the door, her arms being full of shopping bags and a cardboard box labeled ‘punch bowl’.

Kerri was thrilled to see the bags filled with colorfully wrapped presents. She mentally chastised herself for being so greedy, and immediately re-thought it. To heck with that, she thought, it wasn’t every day she had a baby shower thrown in honor of HER child. She grinned from ear to ear as Mrs. Vecchio hurried by.

“I’d be happy to help you carry those things upstairs, Ma,” she gushed.

“Oh, no, you don’t! You can’t see the preparations until the very last minute.”

Lance laughed out loud and received a hard elbow to the ribs in return. “Ouch! Bethy and I will help you, Mrs. Vecchio,” he grinned as he took Beth and her presents upstairs.

“Traitor!” This time Kerri didn’t mutter.

“I’ve been meanin’ ta ask,” Frannie said, as she put the finishing touches on the dining room draperies, “ya heard anythin’ from Frase? All Ray said was they were goin’ ta Minnesota on some case or sumthin’. I think they wanted ta get outta helpin’ with the party.”

Fraser had indeed been in touch with Meg, but they had both agreed to keep the circumstances to themselves. Several people attending the party knew Sheila, and there was no sense in spoiling everyone’s good time unless it was absolutely necessary. Fraser had promised to call her just as soon as Sheila regained consciousness, and then they all could decide what to do next.

“He, ah, called early this morning, before they knew anything.” Meg left Frannie with the impression that Fraser’s call had been before they even got to the hospital.

“Hmm,” Frannie was about to ask something else when the far end of the streamer she was hanging came lose and started to flutter to the ground. “Meg! Quick catch that end before it –”

Meg was on it even before Frannie finished her sentence, glad that circumstances had conspired to change the subject. The fact that it was already Friday evening and she still had not heard from Fraser worried her. She certainly didn’t want to let that worry show.

When the non-alcoholic punch was prepared and set on the table, and the finishing touches were placed on the room, Meg and Frannie went to get Kerri.

“It’s time for the unveiling. Thank you for waiting so patiently,” Meg said sarcastically. 

“Yeah, ‘n cause you’re such a trooper, you get extra cake,” Frannie added.

Kerri was up the stairs before she even heard the crack about extra cake. But she was stopped dead at the top of the stairs, trying to take in all the wonderful decorations. They had even dressed Beth in a brand new pink velvet and lace dress, trimmed in tiny pink roses. On her feet, they’d placed matching satin slippers trimmed in the same pink roses.

Lance stood by the newly decorated bassinet and beamed at her. “Bethy’s wearing my present. I even dressed her,” he said proudly. “Do you like it?”

Aside from the fact that the pretty little dress was about two sizes too big, Beth looked beautiful. “She’s never had anything so pretty.” Kerri crossed the room and kissed Lance on the cheek. “We’ll have her picture taken in it and send it to you. You can put it on your desk in that big, important office you’re going to have.”

Kerri turned to look at the rest of the room. They had certainly done a marvelous job. She looked from Meg to Frannie and back again. “I’m sorry I’ve been so impatient. Thanks for doing this, it’s just beautiful!”

The guests started to arrive right on schedule, but not before Meg had the chance to take Kerri aside. “Where’s the proud father and his Polish sidekick? I thought he was going to be here in case anyone needed help carrying presents up the stairs.”

“He was rather, ah, reluctant to be here for the party, but he did say he’d be here by six.” Kerri looked at her watch and realized that he had about 2 minutes before he was late. It wasn’t like Renfield to be late for anything, especially something that was so important to her.

She had hardly finished looking at her watch when she heard Renfield talking to Mrs. Hanson as they climbed the stairs.

“Oh, my!” he said as he took in the room. “It looks lovely in here,” and very pink, he thought. “Hello Dulcie, Ellen, Anne, Denise, Ma. How is everyone this fine evening?” and how on earth do I get out of here, he thought. “Where’s Lance?”

“Safety in numbers?” Kerri whispered, as she came up behind him.

“There’s got to be thirty women in here,” he whispered through a forced smile. “Do I have to stay?” he pleaded.

Kerri hugged him and whispered in his ear. “Of course not. That would be sheer torture for you. You and Ray and Lance can go outside and play. Just be sure there aren’t any girls involved.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Renfield laughed as he waved goodbye to a whole room full of chattering women. It put him in mind of a hen house. Now that definitely was not nice, he thought as he bounded down the stairs – true, just not nice.

Chapter 15

Ray dropped Renfield off in front of the shop but being unable to find a place anywhere on the street to park his car, he circled until he finally pulled into the alley behind the bookshop. He parked in the loading zone and hurried into the shop.

“Hey, Lance, where’s Turnbull?”

“I think they’ve trapped him upstairs. Poor guy.”

“Go up ‘n get him. We need ta get outta here before they trap us all.”

Lance held up his hands. “Who, me? I don’t think so! Thirty women, vodka punch and a baby? If you think I’m going up there, think again. My momma didn’t raise no dummies,” Lance laughed as he shook his head vehemently.

“Well, I’m sure as hell not goin’ up there,” Ray shuddered at the thought.

“Why not, Ray?” Renfield asked as he rushed down the stairs, breathless.

“I can tell by the look on yer face you know exactly why!”

Renfield sighed. “I know it’s for my daughter, but the thought of thirty plus women, vodka punch and pink crêpe paper just, well it just –”

“Sets yer teeth on edge?” Ray nodded in agreement. “I’ll do anything in the world for Kerri ‘n Lizard Breath, but not that!” he chuckled. “Come on, Lance, let’s get outta here before they descend on us!”

“Actually, I’m going to stay here. Don’t look at me like that, Ray! I may be gay, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to the party, there’s just some stuff that I need to get done before I leave. I feel bad enough leaving Kerri by herself with Kirsten being new and all.”

“You know Kerri doesn’t expect you to –”

“I know she doesn’t, but I’d feel a lot better if I did. You guys go on, get out of here before they discover you’re still in the building,” he looked at the ceiling as peals of laughter echoed down the stairs. “You’d better make a run for it!”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll just get my coat off the front counter and we can get going,” Renfield said as he brushed passed Ray on his way to the front of the shop.  
____________________________________

Kerri didn’t count them all, but she knew that Meg and Frannie had invited more than thirty women, expecting, of course, that not all of them would actually show up. Their expectations turned out to be in error. From the lack of decent seating, Kerri was sure that everyone was here – and she loved it. Even Mrs. Dubrowski, the Vecchio’s next door neighbor was here, and Kerri had only met her once, and that was at a distance. But Mrs. Dubrowski – Adelaide – just loved children and Mrs. Vecchio’s story of how Mary Elizabeth had come to live with the Turnbull’s had just touched her heart. So Mrs. Vecchio invited her along.

The presents were stacked everywhere someone wasn’t already sitting, and Kerri was as excited as a child on Christmas morning, just waiting for the time to come to open them all.

Seeing the crowd in the living and dining rooms, Meg reluctantly pulled Frannie into the kitchen. “I think we were a little too enthusiastic with the invitations. You know we’re not going to be able to play all the games we got – there’s no room to move out there. Maybe we should just do the tag under the chair for the door prize thing and then have cake. You think?”

Frannie peeked her head out the kitchen door and said, “wow! I think you’re right. Do we even know this many people?”

“If they brought Lizzie a gift I don’t care if we know them or not,” Meg laughed.

“Okay, re-bunch here. Gotta go to plan B –”

“Which is?”

“I don’t have a clue, but I think yer idea’s the best. Do the door prize and then cake and presents. It’s gonna take Kerri all night to open all that loot.”

Meg stepped into the living room and announced, “if everyone could take a seat we’re going to –”

Frannie pushed her aside and whistled loudly through two fingers. That got their attention. “If ya want some cake, SIT!” She turned back to Meg and whispered, “ya just gotta know how ta work the crowd. Helps if ya got lots a little nieces ‘n nephews.”

Everyone found a place to rest their behinds. Rest rather than actually sit, since many of them were perched on the arms of chairs, windowsills or even the floor. “We’re so glad you all were able to come to our little,” very poor choice of words, Meg thought, since Frannie was in the kitchen trying frantically to figure out how to get forty pieces out of that cake, “celebration for Mary Elizabeth. And, of course, our little mother, Kerri.” Everyone smiled at Kerri and there was a smattering of polite applause.

“We had planned a few silly baby shower games,” several of the older women moaned, “but since so many of you were able to come out tonight, we’ve decided against it.” Even the younger women approved of that. “We do have a door prize that we’ve like to get rid, that is, award to one of you. For those of you who actually have a chair, please look under it, or the cushion.” Over the commotion of twenty + women turning over chairs and looking under sofa cushions, Meg shouted, “there’s a sticker that has Mary Elizabeth’s name and birth –”

“I’ve GOT IT!” Maria Vecchio shouted as she waved the sticker in the air. “I WON!”

Frannie muttered as she pulled the prize from behind the television, “always wins everything. Never seen nobody win as much stuff as my sister.”

The ‘prize’ was a three-foot tall clear plastic baby bottle, tied with a pink ribbon and filled with a lifetime supply of jellybeans. “Use this ta feed Tony, maybe it’ll keep him shut up once in a while,” Frannie whispered to her sister.

“There are so many presents for Kerri – and Liz – to open, we thought that she could start that while Frannie and I serve the cake.” Several women spoke up to say that they wanted ‘just a small’ piece, which actually meant ‘give me a regular size, I just want everyone to think I’m eating just a tiny bit’.

Kerri sat in the chair of honor and was immediately engulfed with packages of all shapes and sizes, wrapped in pretty pink paper with big, plump bows. There looked to be hundreds of them. She was excited and overwhelmed at the same time.

Mrs. Vecchio pulled her chair up close, explaining that she would be in charge of the list – the list being who and what, for thank you note purposes. She would also take care of carefully folding the wrapping paper and bows – for reuse, of course.

While Meg and Frannie passed out pieces of cake, Kerri carefully opened one present, then another and another and another. She stopped after each one to show off the sleepers, dresses, booties, blankets, crib mobile etc, etc, etc, first to Beth and then to the crowd.

About halfway through the mountain of presents, Beth began to cry, and the jockeying for position began. The tiny little girl was passed from one mother/grandmother to another to another, each attempting their own tried and true method to get the baby to settle down. Finally, Mrs. Hanson from across the street, who’d never had children of her own, took Beth in her arms and the baby fell right to sleep. Every other woman in the room felt grudging admiration for Mrs. Hanson, and Kerri knew she had found a baby sitter, who lived just steps away.

Just after Mrs. Hanson began holding Beth, Kerri opened a present that was a real showstopper. The very long, but narrow, package was wrapped in ice blue and baby pink striped paper and was tied with a huge pink bow that looked like it was about to fall off. Kerri knew that it was from Denise, who was one of Renfield’s favorite people. She was about the only female he knew who knew as much or more about hockey than he did. He had first met her when he was teaching art and she was the hockey coach for the older girls at St Michael’s School. She and Renfield loved to talk about the sport, but Kerri had always felt a little left out. When Denise and Renfield talked hockey, Kerri had to remain quiet, knowing a lot about curling, but very little about the sport she felt was rather violent.

She felt a growing sense of unease as she carefully pulled back the pretty paper to reveal a plain cardboard box. Folding back the flaps of the box she uncovered what she really already knew – the box contained the shortest hockey stick she had ever seen. She’d always known that there would be a huge discussion in a few years over whether her sweet, petite princess would take up hockey, or the more demure sport of curling. And she was pretty sure who’d win. Renfield had always been very convincing.

“She should be ready to play by the time she’s five or so, with her size she’s going to be a natural winger. She can start skating as soon as she learns to walk. You are planning on letting her play – aren’t you?” Denise asked when she saw Kerri’s face.

“Renfield certainly wants her to. I just –”

“–there's more in the box,” Denise pointed out, sensing that the mood in the room was becoming tense.

Curious, Kerri looked into the box once again, and pulled out two gifts – the smallest Leaf’s jersey she had ever seen – and the largest Leaf’s jersey she had ever seen.

“Figured there were all kinds of mother/daughter outfits, so I’d get them father/daughter jerseys.”

Kerri giggled at the gifts. They were just perfect for a daddy who was feeling just a little left out in the present department. “Thank you, Denise,” Kerri gushed, “Renfield will just love them!” Kerri could just see Renfield with Beth on the ice. His big feet often made Renfield clumsy on dry land, but the man moved with the grace of a cat on the ice. Maybe hockey for Beth wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Well, at least she’d have time to think about it.

Working her way toward the bottom of the pile, Kerri finally came to the two presents from Meg. First she opened the crib comforter and dust ruffle. Everyone oohed and aahed over the old fashioned characters stitched on the quilted fabric. Kerri turned to the bookshelf behind her and produced a gift Lance had given her earlier, a very old, rather worn copy of the AA Milne story. The pictures in the book looked exactly like the characters on the fabric.

“Meg, it’s just lovely. Thank you!”

“There’s another one right there,” Meg pointed to another package wrapped in the same paper. When Kerri opened the riding habit everyone clapped. “It’s way too big, but as soon as she’d old enough, Ben’s gift to her will be riding lessons. She couldn’t be in safer hands,” Meg assured Kerri. But as certain as Kerri was about Beth’s safety with Renfield on the ice, she was even more certain about her daughter’s safety in the hands of Benton Fraser.

“Thank you both,” Kerri mouthed to her friend.

Frannie rolled her eyes, looking very Vecchio-esque. Hockey and horses, how much more Canadian could they get? Of course, in her experience, being Canadian was not necessarily a bad thing. 

When she’d finally reached the bottom of the pile, Kerri was just about to thank everyone once again, but Mrs. Vecchio interrupted. “Here’s one more, dear.” Handing her an exquisitely wrapped package, she continued, “I usually save these for my children and their children. But Mary Elizabeth is a very special gift from God, we all know that, so this seemed the perfect gift.”

Kerri stared at her briefly, before taking extra care in unwrapping the beautiful package. She pulled the lid off the box and slowly pulled back the tissue paper to reveal its contents. What she saw caused her to gasp. With tears in her eyes she pulled out the most beautiful white gown she had ever seen. It was made of white satin and had tiny cap sleeves with tiny bows. The bodice was beaded with countless tiny, iridescent beads. Under it in the box was a matching satin cap. It was the most gorgeous thing Kerri had ever seen.

“Oh, my! Mrs. Vecchio, it’s, it’s –”

“It’s a christening dress. I’ve made one for each of my children and their children –”

“You made this?” Meg breathed. “It’s lovely.”

“I know that you and Renfield aren’t Catholic, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be baptized.” She reached over and held up the skirt. “It’s got her name stitched in the hem. When she’s christened I’ll stitch in the date.”

Kerri laid the dress carefully in the box and then turned to give Mrs. Vecchio a great big tearful hug. “Renfield and I both lost our mothers at a very young age. We’d be honored if Beth could call you Grandmother,” she sniffed.

“Make it Grandma and you’ve got a deal.”

Everyone tittered to lighten the mood, as Kerri dried her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you all so much for all the lovely gifts! Everything is just so beautiful.”

All the guests prepared to leave and Meg, Frannie and Kerri began the process of cleaning up the cups, plates, napkins and other assorted trash created by thirty plus women.

“Thank goodness for paper plates,” Meg said as she pulled another trash bag from under the kitchen sink.

“Ya got that right.”

Chapter 16

The dark, nondescript rental car pulled up across the street from Great Expectations Bookshop just about the time that Meg and Frannie started passing out the cake. But the occupants of the car weren’t late for the party and couldn’t have cared less about cake. They were here for a much more sinister purpose. 

Just as Norman had instructed, Chuck had his target’s habits well established. Norman was far too smart to try anything at the Consulate, too many Mounties around for that, but this bookshop setup was perfect. From his position, in the backseat of the car, he could see that there was a party going on upstairs above the shop. That was of little consequence to him, what was important, however, was just how busy the street in front of the shop was, and it seemed uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday night. It never occurred to him that all of the women in the neighborhood were at the party and all of the men had high-tailed it out of the area.

Norman reached over the seat and pulled the used, but spotlessly shiny, weapon out of the glove box, the reflection from the streetlight causing the barrel to glint. He thought that a beautiful weapon’s destructive power. He really got off on the force that he held in his hands. Jeez, what a turn on. Too bad he wasted that traitorous bitch Sheila, he knew he would need her special kind of servicing later tonight.

“Boss?” Chuck looked at Norman strangely. He’d known Norman a long time now, and Norman seemed to be getting weirder and weirder all the time.

“What?” Norman snapped, angered that his erotic spell had been broken.

“I just asked how much longer we’re gonna sit here?” 

“You see him anywhere around? Huh, you idiot? Can’t do him if he isn’t here,” idiot, he thought.

“Sorry, Boss.”

They only had to wait a couple of minutes before an old, shiny black car drove up and Norman watched as René the Shit got out. He knew it wasn’t René, of course, it was the twin brother, the Mountie. Norman was strangely taken aback at seeing him. He halfway expected the guy to be wearing the telltale Mountie red coat, and it might have been less shocking to Norman if he had been. But this guy looked just like René the Shit, right down to his black trench coat. Watching him enter the bookshop, Norman knew that he owed this guy a couple of things – the first being a pat on the back for killing René – and the second being a bullet.

Norman also knew that the pat on the back would never happen, because the bullet had to come first. He watched, unable to get a clear line of fire, as the Mountie entered the bookshop, and through the large front window watched him disappear into the rear of the building.

They waited over an hour before more women than he’d seen in any one place poured out of the front door. He was momentarily concerned that they would be hanging out on the street. But it was a cold night and the ladies all made their way to cars or into buildings down along the street. It was only a few more minutes before each and every one of them had disappeared. He waited patiently. And waited some more. He could see movement in the back of the shop, but his line of sight was obscured by bookshelves.

The time he’d spent incarcerated had taught Norman patience. Not so his antsy subordinate. Norman could have waited all night for the perfect opportunity to take his shot, but not so Chuck.

Chuck complained that the Mountie had gone to bed and wouldn’t be down until dawn. He complained that some cop would see them and arrest them for loitering. He complained that his leg was going to sleep. He complained that he was hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Bored.

Finally Norman snapped. “Shut up!” he yelled. “I swear I’m going to shoot you first! You have done everything in your power to keep me from doing this! If I didn’t know how stupid you are, I’d think you were trying to stop me! Do NOT open your mouth again, or I promise it will be the last thing you ever do!”

Chuck did not say another word for the next fifteen minutes.

Finally, the opportunity came. Norman could only see the Mountie’s back as he moved around the front of the shop, but when he stopped near the front window, there was enough of a target for Norman. He hurriedly rolled down the automatic window and, resting the barrel of the gun on the window ledge to steady his aim, he let out a long, deep breath. Squeezing off one round, just as the Mountie turned to face the street, Norman’s bullet shattered the bookshop window before dropping the man where he stood.

“GO! GO! GO! GO!” Norman yelled at Chuck as they sped away from the curb.

Chapter 17

The waiting was really getting to Ray. The longer he and Fraser sat the more uneasy he became. It was nearing 9:00pm, as close as they could figure far more than 24 hours after she was beaten, but Sheila still had not regained consciousness. And the longer she was unconscious, the more Ray worried that she might never awaken.

“Ray, you need to get up and move around. Why don’t we go for a short walk around the block? The fresh air will do us both good.” Fraser stood and motioned for Ray to follow.

“I can’t leave, Benny,” Ray sighed. “She might wake up. I need to be here if…if something happens. She needs me to be here.” The nurses had allowed him to sit with Sheila for five minutes every half-hour for the last eight hours, and Ray was completely done in. He had promised her about two hours ago that he would be right there when she opened her eyes, and he didn’t make that promise lightly.

“I really need to get out for just a minute, do you mind?” Fraser asked.

Ray looked at his best friend and smiled slightly. “Need to feel the cold, arctic air on your face?” Ray teased. “Of course, I don’t mind. I’m just glad you’re waiting with me. I haven’t said that, huh?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I just walked off and left you alone, now would I?”

Fraser didn’t realize the full import of what he’d said, but Ray did. “I guess I wasn’t much of a friend then, because I did that to you.” Ray hung his head and clasped his hands behind his neck. “I guess I’ve really blown it in the friendship department.”

Fraser sat back down next to Ray. “I hope you don’t mean that. Ever since we met you’ve been there for me. Not always willingly, I’ll admit, but always there. And look at you now. You won’t leave Sheila’s side because she means that much to you. You’re a good friend, in the truest definition of the word. I am proud… ”

“Go get some air, Benny,” Ray teased.

“Understood,” Fraser smiled.

Fraser’s leaving left a big, lonely hole in the empty waiting area, so Ray wandered back to Sheila’s bedside. It hadn’t been a full half-hour, but he didn’t know that, and wouldn’t have cared if he had.

Each time he saw her, Ray wanted to weep. She was so hurt and so broken it sickened and infuriated him at the same time. She was so pale under the bandages and bruises, and so still it scared him too.

He placed his hand gently over her broken one. The doctor had told him that her wrist and two fingers were broken, probably in a vain attempt to protect herself. As he had done countless time this afternoon, he spoke softly to her.

“It’s Ray, honey. I’m here,” he whispered. “You’re hurt, but I’m going to protect you. Whoever did this won’t be able to hurt you any more – I won’t let him. Fraser’s here with me. You remember him? The Mountie? Sure you do, every woman remembers Fraser.”

Ray kept up his whispered, steady flow of words, his monotone lulling him into almost dozing. Later he would admit that he didn’t feel it at first – the slightest movement of her hand.

But it didn’t take him long to shake his stupor enough to realize that she had moved. Believing with his entire being that she was waking up, he started talking to her as if he knew she could hear him.

“I felt that, honey! It’s Ray. I’m here, just waiting for you to open those beautiful blue eyes. Please wake up, sweetheart, I need you to wake up. I need to know you know I’m with you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to –”

Ray stopped talking instantly upon seeing her head move slightly and hearing an almost inaudible moan. He touched her cheek ever so softly.

“That’s it honey, you can do it. Open your pretty blue eyes.”

She couldn’t open her eyes, but she obviously heard him because she tried to hold his hand.

“Careful, honey, you’ve got some broken bones. But you’re going to be fine, I’m here to make sure of that.”

“Ray?” she whispered through swollen lips.

“Yes, I’m here! Just waiting for you to wake up,” Ray whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

Agonizingly, slowly, she tried to open her eyes. They were so bruised and swollen, Ray was about to call a nurse to help her, when she winced.

“What?” Ray asked concerned about what was hurting her.

“Bright,” she was able to choke out the word.

He rushed to turn off the light over her bed. “Better, honey?”

“Mmm.”

Slowly, only her left eye opened, her right eye apparently too swollen.

“Hi,” Ray whispered.

“Wh,” the word hurt too much to say, but Ray understood.

“You’re in a clinic in Minnesota. Someone beat you up, honey. But you’re going to be okay now. I’m here to –”

Very suddenly her eye got very wide and she started to struggle. “I –”

“Shh, Honey, shh. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Ray tried his best to not hurt her, but she had become very agitated.

Just as suddenly the nurse, who Ray had come to affectionately refer to as ‘Sarge’, showed up with a hypodermic needle.

“No,” Sheila croaked, “ple,” she tried to swallow to clear her throat, “don’t. I,” she swallowed again, the effort causing her pain that was obvious in her face. “Was Nor,” she had to take several short, panting breaths to ease the pain, “McGill.”

Ray cocked his head, the familiar name not yet registering with him.

“A –” more short breaths and swallowing, “–venge René. Ren – Renfield.”

The full picture hit Ray like a bolt of lightning. “I’m not leaving sweetie, but I gotta call Chicago,” he whispered to Sheila, before turning to Sarge. He yelled at her before he bolted from the room, “you watch her! Don’t leave this room until I get back, you got that?”

He didn’t wait for a response, as he ran out of the room and out the entrance doors of the clinic.

Punching his speed dial for Kowalski, he waited about three seconds before Ray answered.

In that moment, Fraser returned from his short walk to find a very agitated Ray Vecchio standing on the front steps of the clinic.

____________________________________

“Kowalski!” Ray snapped into the phone.

“It’s Vecchio! I gotta –”

“Look, I don’t have –”

“Shut up and listen to me! This is important.”

“NO!” Kowalski shouted back. “You listen ta me. All hell’s broken loose here!”

Suddenly aware of Kowalski’s tone of voice, Ray went cold all over. “What’s happened?” he whispered.

“Lance’s been shot.” Vecchio could hear Kowalski’s voice crack. “Musta been a drive by. Bullet came right through the front window a the bookshop.”

“How is he?” Ray whispered.

“Dead, before we could get to him. Through ‘n through. Jeezus,” Vecchio thought he heard Kowalski begin to cry, “he’s dead. The kid’s dead. Never even had a chance.”

“Ray, listen to me!” Vecchio demanded, calling Kowalski ‘Ray’ for the very first time. “It wasn’t a drive by. Guy named McGill is after Turnbull. No time for explanations. Who’s still there?”

“Uniforms down here. Meg just left ta take Frannie home, she was in no shape ta drive herself. Turnbull’s upstairs with Kerri ‘n the baby. Kerri’s pretty much a mess.”

“You gotta get Turnbull, Kerri and the baby out of there! If this guy’s as nuts as his brother, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“Brother?”

Vecchio hesitated for about two heartbeats. “McGill’s René Laurier’s half-brother. We’ve met.”

“Holy shit!” Kowalski yelled, as he turned to run up the stairs. “I’m on it!”

Ray turned to Fraser as he slowly folded his phone and dropped it in to his pocket. “Lance is dead. Norman McGill is after Turnbull and apparently shot Lance by mistake.”

“Sheila’s awake?”

Oh God, Ray thought, in all the commotion, he’d forgotten about Sheila. “Yeah,” he called over his shoulder, as he ran back into the clinic.

“Ray! Wait!”

“What!” 

“Don’t let Sheila see you like this. She obviously risked her life to stop McGill. She’s in no condition right now to hear she failed.”

“You’re right,” Ray sighed as he hung his head. “I should have thought of that.”

“You were thinking about Lance. We’re all thinking about Lance,” Fraser sighed.

Chapter 18

Kowalski ran up the stairs, across the living room, still piled high with baby shower gifts, and straight into Renfield and Kerri’s bedroom. He screeched to a halt in the doorway, however. He hadn’t seen Kerri look like this since – well, since the last time René Laurier touched their lives.

“We gotta get ya outta here, now! Pack some stuff for the baby ‘n let’s GO!” he shouted.

“Ray? What’s wrong? Kerri is really too upset to leave –”

“Please, this’s really important! Yer in danger here. I’ll explain on the way, but we gotta get outta here, now!”

Ray was really beginning to scare Renfield, so he acquiesced. “If you insist, Ray. I’ll get Beth. Would you sit with Kerri? She shouldn’t be left alone right now.”

As much as Ray hated to see Kerri cry, there was very little that he wouldn’t do for her. “Sure, just hurry!”

He sat next to her on the bed, knowing she hadn’t heard a word that either he or Turnbull had said. She looked as if she’d just shut down, the pain of Lance’s death just too hard for her to bear.

Taking her hand in his, he talked to her much the same as his namesake had spoken to another woman, a whole state away. “It’s gonna be okay, ya know, Honey? Everythin’s gonna be okay. Lance was a good guy, there’s a special place in heaven for guys like him.”

“I got her diaper bag and some formula, but since I didn’t know how long –”

Without a word, Kerri got off the bed and went to Renfield. Taking Beth out of his arms, she hugged her daughter tightly to her. “You’re right, Ray,” she muttered, speaking for the first time since right after they’d heard the gun shot, “he has a special place in heaven. It’s better than here, and much better than New York. He’s happy there, I know he is.”

Renfield had never been a jealous man. He was comfortable in the knowledge that Kerri loved him as much as he loved her. He’d also long ago accepted that Ray had once been in love with his wife, but knowing Ray as well as he did, Renfield knew that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. Until this moment. Right now, he stared with narrowed eyes at his wife and his best friend, feeling the first pangs of jealousy he’d ever felt. He’d just spent almost an hour trying to get through to Kerri, with soothing, loving words, but she had not responded to him. But it had only taken Ray about three minutes to get her talking. He found himself wondering why Kerri always seemed so responsive to Ray.

His disquieting thoughts were interrupted by Ray’s shouts. “Turnbull! We gotta get outta here – now!”

“Sorry Ray,” Renfield whispered. “Can you at least tell me where were going?”

“To the Consulate. Ya should be safe there!”  
____________________________________

“GOD DAMN SON OF A BITCH! I SHOT THE WRONG DAMN GUY!” Norman yelled from the back seat of the car that was hurrying away from the bookshop. In the split second before the window shattered, Norman had seen the man’s face. He’d shot the wrong man.

Chuck was careful not to speed, that would attract too much unwanted attention, but he did weave in and out of the fairly light traffic, in an attempt to get away as quickly as possible.

“WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS ANOTHER GUY THAT LOOKED LIKE TURNBULL? YOU GOD DAMN IDIOT!” Norman screamed in Chuck’s ear.

“Sorry, Boss.” Chuck explained, “I never saw that other guy. Now he’s dead ‘n he didn’t even do nothin’.”

“YOU DAMN IDIOT! I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE OTHER GUY. WHAT I DO GIVE SHIT ABOUT IS NOW WE’VE GOT TO GO BACK! We’ve got to go back,” he repeated as he began to calm down. “Turn the CAR around! We’re going back!”

“Boss! That place is gonna be crawlin’ with cops. We CAN’T go back there!” He’s really losing it, Chuck thought. There was no way he’d even think about letting the Boss make him turn this car around.

Norman’s head was pounding and he was nauseous, to the point he thought he was going to be sick all over the upholstery. He realized he wasn’t thinking clearly, but he had to get Turnbull, and he had to do it now. 

With intense physical effort, Norman cleared his head. Slowing his adrenaline enhanced breathing and calming himself by closing his eyes and shoving thoughts of killing Turnbull out of his mind, he found that his headache eased considerably too.

“Whaddya wanna do, boss?” Chuck asked, fearing the answer, but even more afraid of continuing to drive in circles.

Suddenly able to think a little more clearly, Norman had a brainstorm. “If we can’t go back to where he lives, we’ll go to where he works! Canadian Consulate! Go to the Consulate!”

“But Boss, it’s the middle a the night,” Chuck dared to object.

“We’ll wait.”

Chapter 19

“We should have known about this! He was a known associate of Laurier and he escaped from a Canadian prison! Who could have been so negligent as not to inform Turnbull, at the very least! Why the hell weren’t we informed? If anything happens to that baby or her parents I will never forgive myself – or my government!”

“Constable Fraser!” Meg snapped into her cell phone, causing Frannie to temporarily stop crying. 

“I apologize, Meg. But this is just unconscionable!” Fraser did his best to reign in his anger. He couldn’t remember ever being this out of control. “I’m sorry I shouted at you,” he whispered. “I’m just very worried about what McGill’s next move will be.”

Meg didn’t want to say too much with Frannie right next to her in the car, but she had to reassure Ben that they could handle the situation without him. Although, she really wished she had his broad shoulders to lean on at the moment.

“When are you coming home?” she whispered.

“Soon. Ray will stay with Sheila, but I think I can be of more use in Chicago.”

“Ben, please don’t worry about us. Kowalski seems to be on top of it. You know how much he loves them, he’s not going to let anything happen to any of them. Even if he has to die protecting them.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, Fraser thought. “I wish I was there with you,” he whispered.

“Me too. Hurry home?” Please, she thought, as she hit the ‘end call’ button on her phone.

Fraser turned to find Ray standing right behind him. Without meaning to eavesdrop, Ray had heard the entire conversation. “Don’t be taking all this on yourself, Benny. Don’t look at me with those innocent doe eyes, you know that’s exactly what you’re doing. You did the same thing when Turnbull was poisoned. Kowalski will make sure they’re safe. He and Turnbull and the entire Chicago PD are looking for McGill. They’ll find him.” He looked toward the ER room where Sheila was currently sleeping. “Meg okay?” he asked.

“I could tell by her voice that she’s upset. Everyone liked Lance, it’s hard not to be affected by his death.”

“I’m gonna wait a few days before I tell Sheila. You’re right, she doesn’t need Lance’s death weighing on her mind.” And before Fraser could ask, Ray hurried on, “she was asleep when I got back to her room. Doc says that’s good, though.”

“She’ll need you there when she wakes up.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but I know you need to.”

Sheriff Malone appeared in the hallway behind them, having been informed by Dr. Cannon that Sheila had regained consciousness.

“If ya need a ride ta the airport, Ben, I’d be happy ta have my deputy take ya. Heck, I’ll even drive ya myself, if he’s not available.”

“I suppose if I said I didn’t want to impose, you would just say it’s not imposition?” Fraser said with a weak, but sincere smile.

“You folks’ve had yer fair share the last few days, seems the least I can do.” Bobby turned to Ray. “I do need ta know if ya think this wacko Canadian is gonna be comin’ back ta my neck a the woods, though.”

“As long as he thinks Sheila’s dead, I don’t think there will be a problem, but we can have the Canadian authorities fax you McGill’s picture. Right, Benny?”

“I imagine the FBI would also have it, seeing as they have been watching McGill’s activities since before he was locked up.”

Earlier in the day two almost human FBI agents from Minneapolis had paid a visit to the Mower County Clinic. Not knowing the full extent of Sheila’s undercover activities, they were more concerned for one of their own, who was severely injured. There was obviously nothing that they could find out or do, so, thankfully, they hadn’t stayed very long.

However, as if on cue, just as Fraser mentioned the FBI, two men that Fraser and Ray knew all too well, came sauntering up.

“Oh, God!” Ray whispered. “Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber!”

Fraser cringed. “Agent Helms, Agent Bush,” he acknowledged.

Helms ignored Fraser as he asked Ray, “what’s he doing here?” 

“More to the point, what the hell are you doing here?” Ray advanced on the shorter man, forcing Fraser to step between them.

“One of our agents is down! It’s –”

“The hell you say!” Ray shouted over Fraser’s shoulder. “Where the hell were you when McGill was beating the crap out of her? Where the hell were you when he killed an innocent kid – in CHICAGO – on your turf? Huh? WHERE?”

Fraser was finding it extremely difficult to restrain Ray and wondered vaguely why he was even trying. It might be interesting to see Ray beat – Fraser shook off the thoughts of Ray punching Agent Helms.

“Agent Bush,” Fraser shouted over his shoulder, “I suggest you get your associate out of here before Ray does something you will both regret. Sheila is asleep now anyway, why don’t you come back later?”

“LaRue is our agent. We have as much right to be here – WHAT?” Helms yelled at his partner, whose cooler head had prevailed. He had grabbed Helms by the arm and was pulling him toward the door.

“We’ll be back later,” Bush said.

“It’s a very good thing they left,” Sarge hissed at Ray, Fraser and Bobby, “because I was about to have security throw your noisy butts out! Keep your voices down! Although I’m glad those two,” she pointed at the exit door, “aren’t going to be going in and upsetting my patient.” She turned to look directly at Ray. “She’s awake again, and anxious to see you.”

____________________________________

“Hi,” Ray whispered as he slowly approached Sheila’s bed. He smiled deeply when he saw her looking at him - with both eyes. “Seeing a little better?” he asked as he gently covered her hand with his.

She nodded her head. “Nurse cleaned, so I could open…”

Ray could tell that talking was still hurting her, so he tenderly touched one finger to her lips. “Shh,” he said. “No need to talk. You just rest, I’ll be right here.”

“No,” she started to become agitated again, causing Ray to again worry about her hurting herself. “Ren…field? Okay?” she begged with worried eyes.

“Yeah,” Ray patted her hand to calm her down, “he’s fine. McGill didn’t get to him. He and Kerri and the baby are just fine.”

Sheila’s swollen eyes open just a tiny bit wider. “Baby?”

“Yeah! Mary Elizabeth Turnbull, Kowalski calls her Lizard Breath,” Ray gladly changed the subject.

Sheila looked puzzled. “Kerri couldn’t –”

“They adopted her. Cutest little thing you’ve ever seen. Turnbull’s the proudest papa I ever saw. Just wait ‘til you see her!”

Sheila smiled as much as she could, given her swollen, cut lips. “That’s good,” she replied drowsily.

“They’re fine, I don’t want you to worry about them anymore. Why don’t you just sleep for a while? I’ll be right here holding your hand when you wake up.”

“Mmm, pretty tired…” her slurred words faded away as she slipped into sleep, a faint smile on her lips from the knowledge that McGill hadn’t been able to hurt her friends.

McGill, you son of a bitch, Ray thought, they’d better catch you before I get back to Chicago. Because if I get my hands on you first, there won’t be anything left to arrest.

From his vantage point in the doorway, Fraser watched as Ray spoke gently to Sheila. He hoped desperately that when she recovered Sheila would want to move to Chicago, because he was positive that Ray was going to ask her to.

When he’d first returned from Las Vegas, Ray had been only a shell of his former self. All of his family and friends, especially his mother and Fraser, had been very worried about both his physical and emotional wellbeing. But then he’d found out that a stray bullet, fired from René Laurier’s gun, hadn’t killed Sheila after all, and Ray had been almost instantaneously transformed.

Fraser had always wondered what would happen if Sheila ever reentered Ray’s life. Now that he knew, it caused him to smile. Ray had denied ever truly loving her, but he was only fooling himself. If what he was looking at now wasn’t love in the truest definition of the word, then Fraser had more than one hole in his bag of marbles. 

“Ray?” Fraser asked quietly, when he was sure Sheila was once again asleep.

“Yeah, Benny?” Ray replied without ever taking his eyes off Sheila’s face.

“Ray, I need to get back to Chicago. They’re going to need help tracking down McGill, and Meg’s going to need my assistance in dealing with the Canadian authorities.”

“I know, Benny. There’s not much you can do here, anyway.” Ray laughed, “except, maybe, protect Helms from a certain really angry Italian police lieutenant.”

“I’d really like to stay with you. Keep you company, so to speak. But I think I need to be in Chicago. I’ve got a really bad feeling about all this.”

“Me too. If McGill is as nuts as Laurier, there’s no telling what he’ll do. I think Kowalski and Turnbull need you more than I do.” Ray sighed as he continued to watch Sheila sleeping. “From the way she looks, I’m gonna be here awhile.”

“Ray and Constable Turnbull need me, and Sheila needs you,” Fraser whispered. “I am a little concerned about the continued good health of Agent Helms, however.”

Ray broke he gaze into Sheila’s face just long enough to look Fraser in the eye, and smile. “Don’t worry, Benny, I won’t be punching anybody’s lights out,” at least not in Stewartville, Minnesota, Ray thought.

Chapter 20

Kerri didn’t visit the Consulate very often any more, being far too busy with Great Expectations and now Beth, but she had always loved the beautiful old building. Not only was it the first place she had ever laid eyes on Renfield, but it was rich with history. She loved the moldings, the carvings on the doors and the turned mahogany of the stair banisters. She even loved the lush carpets in the business offices. 

But not so tonight. Tonight the darkened corners seemed to loom at her ominously, and the creaks from the hardwood floors in the entry hall seemed to echo through the deserted rooms. The normally warm and inviting building now seemed only cold and foreboding.

Before they had been spirited away from their home, she had heard Ray say that he would explain in the car. But during the short trip to the Consulate Ray had not said a word about why they needed to leave. Not that it mattered to Kerri, not then, anyway. She had been more concerned about Lance. 

Where were they taking him, and what would they do with…with his body? She couldn’t bear the thought of him lying in some cold place without anyone who cared for him by his side. She believed he was in heaven, she would have lost her mind if she didn’t believe that, but still, someone who loved him should be with his…body.

Once they entered the Consulate, though, Kerri began to become concerned about why they were there. Ray had also said something about their being in danger in their own home. What did he mean by that?

Before she could ask, Renfield spoke up. “Okay, Ray, why are we here? I’ve been patient with you, but no longer. Kerri and Beth shouldn’t be out –”

“Kerri, why don’t ya put Mary Elizabeth ta bed in the Queen’s bedroom?”

Renfield stared at Ray with an extremely worried look on his face. Ray had never called Beth anything but Lizard Breath since the first moment he’d met her. “Maybe Ray’s right, Sweetheart. Why don’t you get Beth settled upstairs,” he said, knowing now that whatever was wrong was going to further upset his wife. “I’ll be up in a couple of minutes.”

“But –”

“Please, Kerri? I’ll be right there.”

Kerri was beginning to feel that she was better off not knowing what was going on. She still wanted to know, but she’d work it out of Renfield in a few minutes. She left them to get Beth settled in bed.

“Ray?” Renfield asked.

“There any weapons in this place?”

“Yes, Ray. This is Canadian soil. But, you’d better explain yourself right now!”

“ANSWER ME!”

Renfield was shocked into momentary silence. Even back in the old days, when Ray thought he was a brainless idiot, Ray had never yelled at him. This was serious.

“Inspector Thatcher’s grandfather’s rifle is in a case in her office. Ammunition is in her desk drawer.”

“Got keys?”

“Yes. I clean it for her.”

They proceeded to Meg’s office, Renfield turning on the light, and Ray promptly turning it off again. “Sorry Buddy, no lights.”

Ray stumbled around in the darkness, but Renfield knew where the obstacles were and how to avoid them (usually).

Ray was jumping around on one foot, muttering insults at Thatcher’s desk, that had the nerve to get in his way, when he heard the door to the gun case open. Once he was close enough, the street light outside provided just enough light for Ray to see the rifle.

“Thing work?” He looked appreciatively at the old weapon.

“As well as the day it was made. Enfield .303 British, beautiful isn’t it?”

“Renfield?” Ray asked, shocked.

“Enfield, Ray. No ‘r’.”

“Silly name,” Ray muttered as he reached for the gun.

But Renfield stood his ground. “Ray, I am not going to let you touch this rifle until you tell me what you – we need it for.”

Ray sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for yellin’ at ya back there.” He took a deep breath. “Name Norman McGill ring a bell?”

“Of course, Ray. He’s Danny Brock’s other stepson. He’s in prison in Quebec –”

“Not any more, he’s not.”

“Lance?” Renfield breathed, going cold all over.

Ray just nodded, unsure what to say next. It hadn’t occurred to him until just this moment how Lance’s dying in his place would affect Turnbull.

There was just enough light where they stood for Ray to see the Mountie’s knuckles turn white as his grip on the barrel of the rifle tightened.

“Lance was killed by a bullet meant for me?” Renfield muttered.

“Look, Buddy, there’s no time for beatin’ yerself up right now. We got more important things ta do. Like armin’ ourselves ‘n protectin’ Kerri ‘n Lizard, er, Beth.”

Renfield shook himself and temporarily cast aside thoughts of Lance and allowed thoughts of Kerri and Beth to become foremost in his mind.

“MY GOD!” he yelled as he bolted toward the stairs, “she’s probably got the lights on upstairs!”

____________________________________

The same dark, nondescript car that had arrived late for the baby shower now cruised slowly down the deserted street passed the Canadian Consulate building. The headlights were turned off, but the tiny pools of rainwater on the hood reflecting in the streetlights made the car hard to miss. Smart enough to know that he could be spotted, Chuck pulled the car to the curb as far from the reflective glare as possible. From where he stopped it would be very hard for anyone to spot them from a distance, if anyone were looking.

“They’re in there, Boss. Funny Hair’s car is in the alley and I saw the Mountie before the light went out downstairs. Whaddya wanna do?”

Norman was flying by the seat of his pants at this point. So confident that he would nail the Mountie on the first attempt, he hadn’t even considered a plan B. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell the idiot in the front seat that.

“Shut up!”

Norman’s mind was racing. He knew that drive-by shootings were commonplace in the US. You couldn’t watch a news program at Donnacona without hearing about another ‘senseless killing’ in the US. And he knew that the shooting at the bookshop would be considered a drive-by. No one had any reason to believe otherwise. What concerned him was why the Mountie was at the Consulate this time of night, and why the idiot with the stupid hair was with him.

Even though there was still a light in a window on the second floor, they had not seen any movement in the building since the light downstairs went on and then off again, shortly after they pulled up. It just didn’t figure, unless they were waiting for him, but that wasn’t possible. To Norman’s ego enhanced way of thinking, no one could possibly know he was anywhere in the area, he’d covered his tracks too well.

No, he decided, the Mountie being at the Consulate didn’t have anything to do with him, it was just a lucky break – for Norman.

They had been watching the building for a short while when the light on the second floor went out.

“Now!” Norman hissed. “They must be leaving. We’ll get them in the alley!”

Without turning on the headlights, Chuck pulled a U-turn in the street and headed back to the corner. Turning right one block down from the Consulate, he drove to the alley the bisected the city blocks in this area. Still driving without lights, he proceeded down the alley and across the street that ran on the north side of the Consulate building.

They could see stupid hair’s car parked in front of the rear exit, so they crept within 50 yards and stopped the car in the total darkness, away from the rear light of the Consulate, where they waited in ambush.

But before too long, it became apparent that whoever was in there wasn’t coming out. It didn’t take much longer for Norman to decide – if the Mountie and Stupid Hair weren’t coming out, it would be necessary for them to go in.

“Come on!” he ordered, throwing open the rear door of the car. “We’re going in.”

Chapter 21

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but when Sheila opened her eyes this time Ray wasn’t there. In his place was an older, slightly disheveled man, wearing faded blue overalls and staring at her with deep concern.

“Hello,” she croaked.

“Hi ya,” he stammered, stepping nervously toward her. “How ya feelin’?”

“Better,” she managed, through her still swollen lips.

“Sorry,” the man said shyly. “Shoulda told ya. I’m Vickers, Jimmie Vickers. Came ta see if ya was all right. You was lookin’ pretty messed up last time I saw ya.”

“You,” she hesitated, trying to swallow away the dryness in her throat, “work here?”

“Nah, I’m a trucker,” he explained. Suddenly it occurred to him that she had absolutely no idea who he was. But of course she wouldn’t know him, how could she? “I called the cops when that SOB, excuse my French, left ya in the woods.”

Sheila smiled at him as best she could and offered him her hand. Jimmie was hesitant to take hold of it, however, seeing all the bandages. He was sure it must hurt like hell. Finally her kind eyes won him over. Gently, he allowed her hand to rest on his open palm.

“Mr.,” she whispered, as she tried to adjust herself in the bed, “er, Jimmie, you saved my,” she sank back against the pillow, just that tiny bit of movement exhausting her, “my life.” Trying to take his hand in hers cause her extreme pain, so much so that she winced involuntarily.

“Yer hurtin’ yerself, Lady. Please, don’t do that? I didn’t do so much, just made a phone call,” he blushed, embarrassed by her kindness.

“Thank you, Jimmie,” she breathed as she tried to moisten her cracked lips. “You’re my hero.”

Now Jimmie really blushed. “Can I come ‘n visit ya once in a while?” he asked sheepishly. “Next time I’ll bring some flowers. Kinda hard ta get roses around here this time a year, but I can get some a them poinsettia ones. If ya like ‘em?”

“I’d love that – Mr. Hero Vickers.”

“You the guy that called the Sheriff?” Ray asked as he came in behind Jimmie.

“Weren’t nothin’”

“On the contrary!” Ray grabbed the man’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Ray Vecchio, Mr. Vickers. Sheriff Malone told me that you were the one who saved Sheila. Thank you.” Ray turned to Sheila and smiled as he took her broken hand gently in his. “She’s a very special lady,” he whispered.

“Bobby tells me yer a cop. You catch the son of a bitch, beggin’ yer pardon Ma’am, who did this. Okay?”

“You got my word on that.”

By the way that the cop was looking at Sheila, Jimmie knew that he was intruding and that it was time for him to leave. “I’ll come back again,” he said as he cleared his throat. “’N I’ll bring ya them flowers I promised.”

Ray waited until Jimmie was out of the room before he said, “I’m sorry! I should have got you some flowers, too. I think that Jimmie guy thinks you’re cute,” Ray grinned at her.

Sheila frowned. “How could he possibly tell? Eyes swollen almost shut, face seven shades of purple, lips,” she couldn’t continue.

“Shh, you’re wearing yourself out. And even with the bruises, you still look pretty darn good to me,” he whispered, as he caressed her face.

“Sleepy,” she muttered.

“You sleep now, I’ll be right here.”

“Ray?”

“Hmm?”

But she didn’t answer him, having fallen asleep once again. “Sleep well, honey,” he whispered, “Jimmie and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Sometime later, Ray awakened from his uncomfortable position, in a chair by Sheila’s bed, to find Aileen Malone standing in the doorway. “Thought I’d come by ta see what all the fuss was about. You look done in, Ray. Why don’t ya go back ta my house and sleep in a real bed? I’ll sit with her for a while.”

“She’ll expect me to be here when she wakes up,” Ray yawned, scratching his head and then rubbing his eyes.

“Look,” Aileen said, “I got one kid who decided to take up hang-gliding, another who went through 6 years of gymnastics, and a husband who’s a cop, so I’ve seen my fair share of hospital vigils, and you ain’t doing anyone any good by wearing yourself out. There’s stew on the stove and the covers are turned down. Bobby’s even got the patrol car out in the parking lot, warmed up and ready to take you home. GO!” she ordered, as she pushed him out of the room.

Once he was out of sight, Aileen pulled a chair up close to Sheila’s bed. She studied Sheila’s face intently, looked down at her bandaged hand and then at the cast on her ankle. “Did a real number on you, poor thing,” she whispered. “Well, don’t you worry. When you’re well enough to get outta this place, there’ll be a safe, cozy room for you right at my house, for you to recuperate.”

Aileen settled in for the long haul. She had absolutely no idea how long she would have to wait, but that was fine. Small town folks did for each other, looked out for each other and helped out wherever they could. The fact that Sheila was a stranger made no difference what so ever.  
____________________________________

Every time she opened her eyes it hurt just a tiny bit less, so it was getting a little easier to accept the intrusion of real life into her sleep. But, before she opened her eyes this time, she heard a strange voice whispering in the background. A woman’s voice.

“And Bobby says that that dang fool Jimmie saved your… Hello! You feel like waking up for a spell?”

Sheila stared at the unknown woman for a moment while her eyes focused. “Yeah,” she finally croaked.

“I’m Aileen Malone, Sheriff’s wife. How you feelin’?”

Sheila frowned. “Starting to hurt in a,” she tried to shift to a different position, but found it hurt far too much to move at all, “whole new bunch of places.”

“Maybe the surface stuff’s gettin' better. Now your body’s gotta work on the inside stuff. Bobby says you’re an FBI agent, but I don’t care who ya are, no woman deserves ta be hurt this way. Hope Ben and Ray really stick it to the guy!”

Sheila liked this woman immediately. She was friendly and open and made herself completely at home. But more than that, she made Sheila feel at home, too. Kind of like her mother, the woman made her feel warm and fuzzy inside – and safe.

“Ray’s staying with us while you’re in here, though we never really see him, he’s always here. He’s a good man, you’re lucky ta have him lookin’ out for ya.”

Sheila sighed and tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. “I just wish I could have gotten a hold of him,” the tears rolled down her cheeks, “sooner. He could have helped –”

“What’s done is done, Honey. No since cryin’ over split milk,” Aileen said, as she handed Sheila a tissue from the box next to the bed. “Ray’s here now, and he isn’t gonna be leavin’ you. That’s what’s important.” Without missing a beat, she changed the subject. “You like mystery stories? Cause I was thinkin’, I could come over ‘n read to ya in the afternoons. I’m readin’ this really great one called ‘Murder on Holiday’. That’d give Ray a chance ta go back ta my place ‘n catch a nap.”

Sheila smiled as best she could. “I’d like that. Ray’s going to wear himself out,” she yawned and Aileen could tell she’d hurt her cut mouth, “staying with me all the time.”

“You go to sleep, darlin’. We’ll tell Ray he’s bein’ kicked out for girl time every afternoon – just as soon as you wake up again.” Aileen patted her hand and watched as Sheila closed her eyes. Poor thing, she thought, tried her best to do her duty – whatever that was – and no one there to help her defend herself against that bastard. She cast her eyes toward heaven. Sorry, she apologized to the Lord, but that’s what he is. You may be able to forgive him, but I can’t. I guess I’m gonna have to do some prayin’ about that one, huh?

Chapter 22

Renfield ran into the Queen’s bedroom, slapping his hand hard against the light switch as he ran past.

“God, Renny, you scared me!” Kerri jumped as he ran into the room. “Why did you turn out the light?” 

In the darkness Renfield couldn’t see Beth. “Where’s the baby?” he demanded.

“Right here, in my lap. What’s wrong!”

He moved across the room and knelt in front of them. “Are you okay, Sweetheart? I’m sorry I had to make you come up here by yourself –”

“I’m fine, as long as I can hold on to Beth,” she sighed. “I never realized how important it would be to me to have someone to protect.”

Renfield felt as if someone had slapped him – hard. He suddenly realized that his jealous thoughts about Kerri and Ray were completely unwarranted. Kerri wasn’t responding to Ray earlier, she was responding to holding Beth. Just as suddenly he was totally ashamed. Neither of them had done anything to deserve his unkind thoughts. 

“Kerri, I’m so sorry!” he blurted out.

Of course, his loving wife assumed that he was speaking of Lance. “We’ll get through it, Renny. We have each other and Bethy.”

He had to stop himself from telling her the truth. There’d be time for that later.

“You haven’t told me what’s wrong!” she demanded. “Why did you turn out the light?”

“There may be some, uh, danger here, Honey.”

“Here? In the Consulate?” Kerri was more incredulous than worried.

Renfield knew there was no easy way to tell her this, so he just blurted it out. “René had a stepbrother, Honey. His name is Norman McGill. He’s the one who shot Lance.”

“Why in the world would René’s stepbrother want to shoot Lance?” As the realization sank in, Kerri gasped. “Oh my God! Renny, he was after you! Is he here?” her rising panic evident in her voice.

“Kerri, listen to me,” he pleaded. “We don’t know what McGill is going to do next. We came here because Ray thought it would be the safest place for you and Beth. There’s no reason to think McGill is anywhere near here, but we need some time to figure things out. I want you to stay right here with Beth. Ray and I are going to keep wa –”

Renfield was interrupted by the deafening cracks of exchanged gunfire on the floor below.

Kerri screamed, and when she did the baby began to wail. Renfield grabbed Kerri by both shoulders and willed the three of them to calm down. “Kerri!” he whispered. “Please listen to me! Please, Honey. Take Beth and get in the closet. Sit on the floor in far corner and stay there until I come and get you! Do you understand me?” She was trembling so hard she couldn’t respond. “Honey, I have to go help Ray. Please! You’ve got to protect Beth!”

In the darkness he couldn’t see her clearly, but he could feel her begin to respond. Knowing she was responsible for her child’s safety made the difference. 

“Go help Ray. I’ll – we’ll be okay,” she said with the growing ferocity of a mother protecting her young.

Renfield kissed her perfunctorily, said, “I love you both,” and made for the door. “I’ll be right back. Stay in there no matter what you hear!”

Grabbing the loaded rifle he’d left propped up in the hall, Renfield made his way quickly, but quietly, down the stairs, the look in his eyes proving that the only thing more ferocious than a mother protecting her young was a father who had already lost one family. And absolutely did not intend to lose another.

“Ray!” Renfield called in a whisper as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Ray, answer me! Where –”

“Over here,” came the whispered reply, out of the darkness, “on the floor under the stairs.”

Ray was amazed when he felt Turnbull by his side. He hadn’t heard his approach. “Geez,” he breathed. “Ya scared me. Stealth technology part a Mountie school?”

“Yes, Ray. Are you hurt?”

“Nah, this McGill must be a brainless wonder. Tried comin’ right in the back door! Right inta my line a fire. Stupid Canadian – no offense.”

“None taken. Is he gone?”

“They. Two a them. Think I winged one of ‘em. ‘Fraid one of ‘em shot up yer pretty woodwork,” Ray tried to tease.

Renfield was about to help his friend to his feet when he felt Ray wince. “Ray! You are hurt!” In the almost non-existent light he could barely see the blood. But he could feel it, and the torn sleeve of Ray’s jacket.

“Nah, just a scratch. Think I caught a ricochet. Ya know me, if it was bad I’d be blubberin’ on yer shoulder. Did tear my good leather jacket, though. Bastard!” Ray whispered the ‘bastard’ just in case Beth was anywhere within hearing. He’d promised himself about two minutes after being appointed her Godfather that he’d never swear again – well, at least not when she might overhear him.

“You can see the alley from the kitchen window. I’ll go look while you call it in.”

“Already called in, Buddy. Be careful! SOBs might be just waitin’ for you to poke yer nose up. Kerri?” he asked, as Turnbull left his side and hurried toward the kitchen. Mountie uniform or not, almost pitch dark or not, Ray thought Turnbull cut a pretty striking figure, carrying that antique rifle.

“I had her take Beth into the closet,” Renfield whispered over his shoulder. “She’ll stay there until we give her the all clear. Just stay put for a minute – I’ll be right back.”

The rear door was ajar as Renfield sneaked past it, the moonlight shining through the broken storm clouds providing just enough illumination for him to see the blood on the doorknob. Good for Ray! Winged one of them, he thought. Too bad there wasn’t a body to go with the blood.

The rain clouds had cleared enough to allow moonlight to illuminate the alley. Standing to the right of the window Renfield could see all the way to the street on the north. Ducking below the windowsill, he moved to the left side of the window, but could see only about halfway down the alley to the south. There was no sign of life in either direction.

Leaving nothing to chance, however, he moved back to the rear exit. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he switched off the exterior light and moved through the door and into the alley. Flattening himself against the wet exterior wall, he first pointed the gun to the south side and the swung it around to the north. Apparently the bastards had fled.

Returning to the kitchen, Renfield grabbed a dishtowel and hurried back to Ray. 

“There’s no sign of them in the alley. Take off your jacket and let me wrap this around your arm. We’ll get you to the emergency room just as soon as I see about Kerri.”

Ray gave him a ‘whaddya think I am, stupid?’ look and, even in the darkness, Renfield knew better than to argue.

“Well, at least let me get this cleaned up for you before Kerri sees it. She’s scared enough as it is.”

Chapter 23

Fraser’s flight arrived at O’Hare shortly after 1:00am. He deplaned to find Meg waiting for him at the gate.

“How did you get through security, without a ticket?” Fraser asked as she grabbed his arm and pulled him across the aisle, to a darkened, empty gate area.

Once they had a small semblance of privacy, she threw her arms around him and, without speaking, buried her head against his shoulder. Surprised, but delighted, Fraser returned her hug, relishing the closeness of her body to his. It felt so very good to comfort and to be comforted. Every time he thought about how close he’d come to giving that up, he shuddered. 

He held her, without speaking, for a very long time. To know that she needed him just as much as he needed her was a lesson he loved to learn, over and over again. After the initial pleasure subsided, however, Fraser realized that something else had happened. He didn’t want to rush her, but he felt he needed to know. Before he had the chance to speak, however, Meg pushed away with a sharp intake of breath.

“They were attacked at the Consulate about an hour ago. Ray was wounded, but he’s fine. Typical Kowalski, no doctor for him,” Meg smiled briefly and then saw the look on his face. “Everyone’s okay, Ben. Scared, but okay. They’re at the 27th Precinct until we can figure out what to do.”

He took her in his arms again and hugged her tightly. “I wish I’d been here!”

Meg heard the self-recrimination in his voice and hastily changed the subject. “How’s Sheila?”

Fraser sighed. “Not good but getting better. Ray’s beside himself with worry. I think he’s going to be in Minnesota for a while. He cares for her very much.”

Meg smiled. “You just figure that out?”

“Well. . . he kept saying he never really loved her,” Fraser tried to explain.

“Constable, for the most perceptive man I’ve ever known, you can be awfully dense.”

“So I’ve been told.” Unable to resist the need to have her close to him, he took her in his arms again and whispered into her hair, “I’m really sorry I yelled at you on the phone –”

“Just keep holding me and you’re forgiven.” She sighed. “I very much admire how passionate you can be, Constable Fraser, especially when it comes to someone you care for. And you were right. It is unconscionable that we didn’t know about McGill’s escape. I did find out why, however.”

Ben pushed back from her in surprise. “Really?”

“You’re not the only passionate one in this couple, you know.”

“Ahh,” he grinned, “that one I did figure out – quite some time ago. So – what did you find out?”

“I called Walter Scott. He’s pretty highly connected and I figured as an old friend of Kerri’s he’d be just as indignant as we are. And he was. He made a few calls and found out at least part of the story.”

Fraser scanned the busy terminal and realized their deserted gate was really not that private. “Why don’t you tell me about it after we get to the car?”

They said very little as they rode the shuttle to the satellite parking lot, each lost in their own thoughts of Turnbull, Kerri and the baby. And of course, Norman McGill. 

Meg hadn’t seen them since right after Lance was killed, but she had seen the horror and grief in Renfield and Kerri’s eyes. It was the same look that she had seen when they all left Las Vegas. Damn that Laurier, she thought. Even though her father had taught her to never speak ill of the dead, Laurier was a SOB of the first magnitude, and his ghost just continued to stalk them all.

____________________________________

Renfield saw them out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting with Kerri and Beth on the Naugahyde sofa in Lieutenant Welsh’s office when Inspector Thatcher and Constable Fraser hurried into the squad room.

Feeling a little of the weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of his fellow officers, Renfield knew the time for action had arrived. “I need to go out and help them coordinate the effort to find McGill. Are you going to be okay here, by yourself?” He looked at her droopy eyes and smiled slightly. “Maybe you should stretch out and try to get some sleep. It’s been a very long day.”

“Everyone’s just as tired as me, Renny. I’d feel guilty sleeping right now.”

“Ah, but you’re the only one who has to be on call every few hours to feed a baby. Get some rest, please? No one is going to think any less of you. Please?”

Kerri sighed, the kind of tired, resigned sigh that Renfield recognized immediately. A sigh that told him she knew he was right.

“Okay, I’ll try.” She laid her head on the arm of the sofa and closed her eyes. Renfield covered her with his coat, made sure that Beth was covered snuggly in her infant carrier, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

As he approached the small group of officers, he could hear them deep in discussion.

“We gotta find a place ta keep ‘em safe. They can’t stay here forever.”

Smiling at yet another of Ray’s attempts to protect his family, Renfield was stopped in his tracks as the conversation continued.

“You’re right, Ray,” Meg agreed. “It might be best if we find two places, however. The three of them together might attract attention. We can hide Kerri and Liz at my apartment, but we might need to keep Turnbull elsewhere.”

“I don’t understand,” Renfield whispered from behind Lieutenant Welsh.

“The separation won’t be for long, Constable. We were just thinking that –”

Renfield lost it. “NO! What I don’t understand is why you think that I need to be protected! I will NOT hide from this, any more than you, Fraser or you, Ray, would.

“How much more do I need to do to prove my value to all of you! I am not a fucking child! I thought that after Las Vegas, or after little Maria’s kidnapping or even after the bank robbery you would all have a better opinion of me!” he shouted. “GOD DAMN IT! How much more do I have to do to prove my worth! How fucking much more!”

Renfield spun on his heel and hurried out of the squad room, leaving several stunned police officers in his wake.  
____________________________________

In his haste to leave the squad room, Renfield took a wrong turn and wound up at the end of the dead-end hall that led to the men’s washroom. Infuriated by his own stupidity, he just stood there, staring at the ugly, peeling puce green paint.

He’d only been there about 30 seconds when he heard the sound of someone approaching him from behind. Still angry, but by now more ashamed, Renfield did not acknowledge the person, who he was sure had come to chastise him.

Expecting to hear Ray, or even worse, Constable Fraser, he was dumfounded by the soft voice from behind him.

“Constable, ah, Renfield?” Meg whispered.

Now completely overcome with shame, Renfield held up his hand to stave off the recrimination he was sure was coming. Composing himself as best he could, he turned toward her. Unable to look her in the eye, however, he chose instead to stare at his feet.

“I apologize for my,” he had to let out a deep breath while trying to come up with the right word to describe his reprehensible behavior. “My insubordination. And my…language. It…it was unforgive…” he muttered to his Nikes. “I –”

“Renfield,” she interrupted, “I accept your apology regarding your language, but you were far from insubordinate. It is I, we, who owe you an apology. I’m sorry if I’ve given you the idea that you are less than an exemplary officer. Over the last few years I’ve come to think of you…that is to say, you are…what I mean is…” Unused to being inarticulate, Meg was becoming extremely irritated with herself. She stamped her foot, causing Renfield’s head to snap up in shock. “What I’m trying to say is that you are indeed a valued member of my command, small though it is. I’ve come to rely on your, ah, unique interpretation of the world around you. You and Benton are very important to me.” She sagged noticeably, as if it had taken immense effort to speak the words.

Unconvinced, Renfield again hung his head. “It’s very hard to work with two people who are so…” 

As Renfield searched for a word, Meg interrupted. “Renfield, I know that Ben and I sometimes appear, uh, very competent. He can track a fugitive over sheer ice and tell where a man ate breakfast just by smelling his breath,” she smiled. “And I can manage a large city consulate, uh, capably. But you have to know how much he and I admire, even envy you.”

This caused his head to once again snap up in surprise. “Envy? Me?”

Meg smiled at the incongruous look in the younger man’s eyes. “Well, yes. I envy the way you relate to others. A major component of police work is the ability to get people to trust you and open up to you, Constable. There is no one I know who is able to do that as well as you. No matter old or young or in between, every one trusts you from almost the moment you open your mouth –”

“–it's just something I’ve always –”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Constable. It’s a talent that Ben and I both admire.” When she could tell she was making her point, she went for the clincher. “I think we make a rather good team, the three of us. Administration, public relations and, well, I’m not quite sure what category breath smelling falls into.”

Renfield snickered and Meg knew she had won him over. “Please come back to the squad room, Renfield. We need your unique insight into this matter.”

Again Renfield stared at his feet. “If you think I’ll be welcome, after my deplorable behavior.”

Meg chuckled as she took his arm. “I’m sure everyone in that room has heard far worse language than that. And I am positive that they are the ones anxious to make amends with you, Constable.”

Renfield approached Ray’s desk sheepishly, but the men gathered around it did their best not to notice. He was accepted back into their group with no outward indication what so ever. 

Lieutenant Welsh was unrolling a city map across the desk and didn’t even miss a beat as he began to give instructions to Huey and Dewey. “There’s a twenty block perimeter –”

“Excuse me, Sir, but I feel I must apologize for my earlier outburst. It was complete –”

“Hey, man,” Jack Huey interrupted, “if I had a pretty wife and baby girl who had been that close to a lunatic with a gun, with only Kowalski between them, I’d have said a whole lot worse than that.” 

Dewey gave Huey a high five for scoring yet another insult to Ray, and the entire incident was forgotten. 

“Ah, Inspector Thatcher, before we were interrupted you were about to tell us all what you found out from your RCMP contacts in Ottawa.”

“Yes, right. After Sheila met with Ray at the lake that last time,” Meg began, “she was off to another assignment, that assignment being to get close to a guy named Marcel Dupré. Dupré is a Canadian national, but he was living in Detroit, working for the Richelieu’s Family interests in the States.

“Sheila’s job was to infiltrate Dupré’s organization and get as close as she could to the man himself. She would have the help of an RCMP operative, already on the inside, who had moved from Canada with Dupré’s inner circle. According to what Superintendent Scott learned, Sheila did her job a little too well. Shortly before his arrest, McGill paid a visit to Detroit and took an instant liking to her. Dupré took advantage of it. He appealed to McGill’s high opinion of himself by telling him that Sheila had been the lady of Armando Langoustini, and that she only went with the best. He told McGill, just as he had been told, that she fooled the FBI by faking her own death and escaped from Las Vegas with the Feds none the wiser. McGill was apparently smitten and took her back to Quebec with him, where they got, uh, very close. That’s how she became a double agent, so to speak, funneling selected bits of information to Dupré, and everything she could find out to her RCMP contact. Her information was instrumental in sending McGill to prison.”

“Walking a very dangerous line,” Fraser muttered.

“Exactly. She stayed in Quebec and visited McGill in prison every visiting day. The FBI and the RCMP knew that he was still running the Family business from prison and was planning something big that had connections in Detroit, so Sheila was the best person to learn what he was up to. But once the authorities realized that they weren’t going to get any information that way, they decided to aid in his escape. Sheila knew that he was planning to escape and how he was going to do it, so the RCMP placed one of our operatives in the cafeteria loading dock operation to facilitate. 

“She kept at him after he got out, but to no avail. The reason that neither the FBI nor the RCMP contacted any of us was, and I quote, ‘because they didn’t think there was any need for us to know about the operation’. There was just no indication that he intended to come anywhere near Chicago.

“The night before they left the city, Sheila called both Dupré and her RCMP contact and begged both of them to get her out of there. I guess McGill was getting pretty rough with her. Dupré ordered her to stay put, but the RCMP operative, concerned for her safety, made arrangements to pull her out. They were going to extract her the next day, but McGill took her and left town before they got to her. She apparently wasn’t able to contact either the RCMP or the FBI once they fled Quebec City.”

“So McGill musta found out what she was up to –”

“– and beat her until he thought she was dead.” Fraser completed Ray’s sentence.

“Hmm, I wonder if –” Renfield muttered to himself, but stopped in mid-sentence when he saw all eyes turn to him.

“Wonder what, Constable?” Meg asked.

“Well,” he continued, slightly embarrassed that everyone was looking at him, “I just wonder if he is still planning to carry out his plan in regards to the arms deal.”

“Good wondering, Turnbull,” Lieutenant Welsh complimented the younger officer. “And I wonder what the FBI knows about that plan. Maybe a little call to Tweedle…that is, Agents Helms and Bush might be in order. Constable, why don’t you come with me and help me do a little cage rattling.”

Turnbull brightened at the request for his assistance. “Yes, Sir.” 

Chapter 24

Cage rattling got results all right, just not the results any of them had expected, or desired. About an hour after Welsh hung up the phone, shortly after dawn, Agents Helms and Bush appeared in the squad room.

Marching directly to the Lieutenant’s office, Bush was about to reach for the doorknob when Helms spotted Beth, sleeping inside.

“What the hell is that kid doing in your office, Harding?” Helms demanded, as if he owned the place.

Welsh, well known for his slightly skewed sense of humor, pointed to Turnbull, said “you probably should ask him,” and then wisely stepped out of the way.

Renfield had taken about two angry steps toward Helms when Ray blocked his path. “Slow down, Big Guy, let the Godfather take care a this one.” He rounded on the unsuspecting agent. “That kid has a name,” he seethed. “It’s Mary Elizabeth. ‘N she has a hell (he whispered the ‘hell’) of a lot more reason ta be here than you do.” By this time Ray was nose to nose with Helms. “Not ta mention she is welcome here. What’s yer excuse?”

“Sorry! No offense! We just need to use the office, that’s all.”

Sensing that this encounter was getting them exactly nowhere, Welsh’s cooler head prevailed. “Why don’t we use my alternate office? This way, gentlemen.” With Welsh leading the parade, they all marched toward what had suddenly become the alternate office, the small room formerly known as Interview 3.

Nine officers of the law crowded into a room, the size of which was more conducive to three, possibly four, individuals. 

“Isn’t it a little tight in here, Harding?” Bush yelled. Looking pointedly at Fraser, he continued, “maybe some of the Canadians should step outside.”

From the other side of the room Ray piped up, “I don’t think tryin’ ta exclude Turnbull from this investigation is a very bright idea.” He paused just briefly. “On the other hand, maybe you should be the one ta ask him ta leave.”

From somewhere behind him, Bush could here Huey and Dewey snickering.

“Why don’t you tell us why you’ve graced us with your presence?” Welsh asked, somewhat sarcastically, knowing full well that their superiors at the FBI had kicked their butts over here. “Then we’ll see if there’s anything that we can add.”

“Whatever,” Helms muttered. “Look,” he announced to no one in particular, “here’s the deal. We went to see Agent LaRue and she was next to useless.” Being completely clueless, Helms didn’t notice the room full of angry eyes that turned toward him in unison. “McGill didn’t tell her squat. But the RCMP did tell us that Dupré’s in town, too. Don’t know if the two are connected.” Now that he’d told them more than he’d originally intended to, Helms waited for someone to speak up and share their information.

It was Fraser that finally broke the heavy silence. “McGill is in Chicago because of Constable Turnbull –”

“We already know that,” Bush smirked.

“Ah, but what you may not know is that Dupré is trying to take over the Richelieu Family, and more importantly, McGill knows it. Knowing that Dupré is in town puts all the pieces into place. I suspect that the arms deal McGill is planning will take place here, in Chicago. Dupré and his henchmen are here to cut in on that deal. It only follows that McGill is expecting them and will try to eliminate the competition.”

“But that would mean that McGill will be fighting a two front war, so to speak. Trying to eliminate me, while also warring with Dupré’s branch of the family.”

Fraser glanced toward Turnbull, being able to see him over the rest of the people in the crowded room. “Exactly, Turnbull. I am assuming that he will have reinforcements arriving prior to this meeting –”

“– 'n we’re gonna have a Canadian gang war on our hands.”

“Unfortunately, Ray, I think you may be correct.”

“I find it hard to believe that McGill would be that stupid.”

“Agent Helms,” Fraser tried to explain, in terms even the smallest child could understand, “McGill may not be stupid, but he allows his arrogance to get in the way of his better judgement. We know that because he walked right into Ray’s line of fire at the Consulate, trying to get to Turnbull. He apparently believes himself to be invincible –”

“– 'n that’s gonna be his downfall!”

“Exactly, Ray.”

“Could we please get out of here now?” Meg begged. “I don’t mean to criticize, but this many people crowded into an airless room, who haven’t showered in quite some time, is beginning to make me lightheaded.”

____________________________________

When Renfield returned to the squad room, Kerri was awake and looking for him.

“What’s happened, Renny? Who are those funny looking men in the three piece suits?”

Renfield could have kissed her, as it was he grinned from ear to ear. “They’re FBI, dear.”

“Oh, my!” she whispered. “I hope they didn’t hear me.”

“I hope they did. They’re not very nice, and they said some unpleasant things about Sheila.”

“Well, they certainly don’t know her, then. Why are they here?”

“They had some information that has proven very helpful in determining McGill’s plans.”

“Oh, Renny! Do they know where he is?”

Renfield sighed. “No, unfortunately, no one knows that, at the present. What they did tell us is that Marcel Dupré is in town. He’s the man that Sheila original went undercover to watch. Anyway, Dupré is trying to take over the Richelieu Family from McGill. But McGill knows that and is setting up a trap for Dupré. Constable Fraser and Ray think that there may be a full scale mob war.”

“I knew about organized crime in the Provinces because of René. But I had no idea it was this big a problem. Do you think McGill will try to hurt you again?” A single tear trickled down her cheek as she once again thought of Lance.

Renfield watched as the droplet slid down her cheek, to her chin and was eventually absorbed by her collar. Seeing her cry brought all of the horror from the previous day, and even their time in Las Vegas, crashing down around him. He was so overcome with regret he could barely speak. “I’m so sorry that I’ve brought more trouble to our family. You know I’d do anything to bring Lance –”

“Renny, stop right there. I knew you would do this, and I’m not going to let you. None of this is your fault! Not René, what happened to Sheila or Lance, not even McGill. If anyone is to blame, it’s Danny Brock and your birth mother. I don’t know what those people did to their sons, but whatever it was, they are the reason all of this has fallen onto you. Please, Renny, don’t blame yourself! I don’t and no one else does.”

“I’ll try,” he sighed. “If I forget, will you remind me?”

Kerri took him in her arms and laid her head against his chest. She whispered, “you bet.” She held him just briefly before she spoke again. Not wanting to let him go, she began, “did I ever tell you how much being in your arms comforts me?” just as Beth began to whimper. “But,” she sighed, “you’ve got to remind me to tell our daughter, when she’s about 18, what impeccable timing she had as a baby.”

Kerri went to feed and change Beth as Ray walked up. “She’s lookin’ better.” Ray took his arm and led Renfield away from Welsh’s office door. “I gotta talk ta ya ‘bout somethin’ serious.” Renfield steeled himself for all manner of bad news. “Ya see, it’s like this. I’m takin’ this Godfather stuff pretty serious, ya know? ‘N, well, ya see, well…”

“What, Ray?”

“Ya gotta be watchin’ yer language round Lizard Breath,” he finally blurted out.

Renfield put his arm around Ray’s shoulders as they walked toward Ray’s desk. “Ray, I love you!” Renfield laughed.

Ray recoiled just slightly. “Ya mean like a brother, right?”

“Of course, Ray. What else would I mean?” 

“Just checkin’ ta make sure nothin’s changed around here, or nothin’.”

Renfield hesitated just a moment. “Ray?”

“Huh?”

Renfield hesitated. “It’s nothing. Just that I wish it was you who had been my brother, that’s all.”

Chapter 25

Sheila awoke to silence. It scared her at first, until she remembered how quiet this little clinic was in the morning. Noise was, for some unknown reason, for hours of darkness. 

Right now the sun shone brilliantly through the angled slats of the mini-blinds covering her window. Fresh snow had fallen overnight, she could tell because, even though the slats were angled to keep the sun out of her eyes, she could still see a young boy shoveling the walk next to her room.

Just that simple act of normalcy warmed her heart. For the last few months her life, her companions, for that matter, had been anything but normal. Deviant, perverted, even fiendish, but normal – hardly. Over the last several days she had almost lost herself to an underworld that had almost consumed her. The thought of how close she had come, first to almost losing her soul and second to almost losing her life, to that deviant behavior, caused her to gasp aloud.

“Sweetheart! What’s wrong?” Ray was at her side in a split second.

Sheila couldn’t help herself, she began to sob.

It only took Ray a moment to realize why she was crying and only a moment longer to take her in his arms. He held her gently, without speaking, as she cried, knowing that no words could ever heal the pain that was causing the tears.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a very long time, letting her cry herself out. Sarge poked her head in the door at one point, but immediately backed off, knowing that there was little she could do to help.

Finally, after a very long time, Sheila was out of tears and even the strength to shed them. Ray could tell, by the way she slumped in his arms, that now was the time for cleanup. Without letting her go he reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table.

“Want to wipe your nose?” he asked, with as much lightness as he could muster.

She nodded and pulled away just slightly. Without looking up at him, she took the tissue and blew into it softly, so as not to hurt her horribly bruised nose. She repeated this several times and then turned her attention to her cheeks and eyes. There was a mountain of soiled tissues on the bed by the time she was done.

She finally sank back against her pillow, but she still could not bring herself to make eye contact with Ray, and he knew why.

He knew now was the time for words, he just hoped he could come up with ones that would help. “I remember,” he began, “the first time I met with Angelo Morelli – after I became Armando Langostini. I was positive that he was going to see right through me. I was scared to death the entire time, afraid that I was a dead man, and needing Benny so much. But I was alone.” When she still wouldn’t look at him, he rose and moved to the window, staring out at the newly fallen snow. “I was lucky. Neither Morelli, nor any of the other Iguana Family saw through the ruse. But the best luck of all, what saved my sanity, was the partner I got. Someone to watch my back and share the horrors of undercover work.” He turned to face her but did not move away from where he stood. “I could have never made it without you, Sheila.”

Ray took a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you to tell me what happened in there, honey. What he did to you. You’ll tell me when – if – you’re ready. You just have to know that if there’s any one on the face of this earth that will understand, it’s me. I’m just…”

“What?” she whispered.

Ray walked to her side. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” he said softly.

“Oh, Ray,” she sobbed, tears beginning again, “I needed you so badly.” 

Chapter 26

The neon sign flashed its garish red, blue and green lights on and off, on and off, right through the dirty window, all night long. To the point that Norman knew he would lose his mind. 

He searched his mind for someone to blame for bringing him to this point. This place was filthy. Not only were the windows caked with dirt, the carpet (if you could call the few dirty threads that covered the concrete floor, carpet) wasn’t fit to walk on. He didn’t even want to think about what type of bodily fluids might be caked on the faded print bedspreads. It didn’t matter to him in the least that Chuck was bleeding onto one at this very moment. That bedspread had probably seen a lot worse.

“Boss,” Chuck complained, shortly after he checked them in to this flea bag, “my arm’s killing me. Can’t we at least get some aspirin and something to bandage it with?”

“You think I’m stupid enough to go into a drug store to buy stuff like that? Just shut the hell up! It’s just a scratch. Goddamn bullet just nicked you. You’re just lucky the guy with the gun didn’t have better aim. If you’re so damn worried about your stupid arm, tear up some of these sheets and wrap it up!”

Even in his weakened condition, Chuck eyed the sheets suspiciously. No telling when they were washed last, he thought. But his arm was still bleeding, and it hurt like hell. He could either die from loss of blood, or an infected bullet wound. Finally, he decided he was tired of bleeding. The sheets quickly became bandages.

Once he had cleaned himself up, as best he could, Chuck felt a little better. “Bastard! Who’d a thought he’d have a gun? Who are those guys, anyway?”

“Funny you should ask, you moron! That’s what I pay you to find out! They were goddamn waiting for us! How’d they know we were coming? It was a drive by! No one could have known! Who’d you tell?” Norman turned on his companion, suddenly realizing that it must have been Chuck’s fault.

“Nobody! I swear to God – nobody! Maybe the Mountie knew cause you broke outta jail! That’s gotta be it – the Mountie knew you was coming.”

“That’s just stupid! Nobody knew my plans! NOBODY!”

“Sheila?”

“Sheila’s dead. Besides, I didn’t tell her a thing! Bitch would have been too stupid to understand, even if I had.” Realizing this conversation was getting them exactly nowhere, Norman calmed down a little. “I’ve got to figure this out. Shut up and get some sleep. You won’t be any good to me if you drop dead.”

Norman sat in a broken down chair and watched the neon sign flashing across the tattered carpet of this seedy motel, while Chuck snored. He was panicked because he didn’t have a plan. Even he knew that without a plan he would be vulnerable and could be very dead – very soon. 

By the time the sun came up, he’d regrouped. Deciding that the dimwit asleep on the other bed was right, Norman admitted that he’d miscalculated. The RCMP must have notified Turnbull of his escape. It was the only reasonable explanation as to why they were lying in wait for him at the Consulate. Stupid hair didn’t look like any Mountie Norman had ever seen, which meant he must have been a cop.

That explained it! A Chicago cop and a Mountie had been lying in wait for him. But he’d still been smarter than both of them – he’d gotten out of there without a scratch. He didn’t count Chuck, of course. Chuck was just about worthless as far as Norman was concerned.

So now Norman had two targets – a Chicago cop with stupid hair and the Mountie who’d killed René the Shit. Luckily for him, reinforcements were due to cross the border any time now.

Chapter 27

“No sign of them anywhere! Beat cops, patrol officers and detectives from every precinct in the city have been scouring the streets all night!” Lieutenant Welsh yelled in frustration, slamming his jelly donut against his desk. “You want it?” he snapped at the wolf drooling next to him. “Here,” he barked as he pried the pastry off the wood, leaving a serious lump of strawberry jelly dripping off the side of the desk, “better you have a heart attack than me.”

“Where was I,” he looked around at the other officers strewn across the room. Disheveled and discouraged, all of them definitely looked the worse for wear. Even Fraser, who never wrinkled, even in jeans and a flannel shirt, was slightly mussed, but apparently Welsh didn’t notice.

“How the hell you do that?” Welsh snapped at Fraser.

“Sir?”

“Manage to look like that after being up all night?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I must apologize for my appearance –”

“He’s complimentin’ you,” Ray whispered in his ear.

“Oh!”

“The rest of these bums look like – bums – even Huey’s a mess. But you! You look like a GQ add, or something!”

“GQ?” Fraser asked.

“Say ‘thank you, Sir’.” Ray whispered.

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Fraser’s genuine confusion diffused Welsh’s anger and frustration. He suddenly felt very guilty for shouting at the Mountie. “Sorry, Constable,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re all pretty tired here. No offense.”

Since Fraser had no idea that he had been offended, there was only one response he could make. “None taken.”

A few moments later Frannie burst through Welsh’s door. “RCMP caught three of the meatloafs right before they crossed the border! They’re broiling them now.” Taking a quick look around the room, Frannie ‘tsked’ in disapproval. Looking pointedly at Ray, she voiced that disapproval. “Yer certainly looking worse than usual. There’s this stuff ya can get at the store, it’s called s-o-a-p, soap. Ya use it with water ‘n it helps get the stink off. Ya might wanna try the giant, economy size.”

Ray sneered at her. “Yer looking yer usual lovely self,” he said, sarcastically.

Because she knew that tone, and because, even in spite of his mouth, she knew his words were true, Frannie winked at him. “You got that right, bro.” She snapped her gum in his face and turned to leave, coming face to face with Fraser. Damn, she thought, a day’s growth of beard made him look even sexier than normal.

“Fraser,” she breathed, as she hurried out of the office.

I need ta find a man – any man, she thought as she closed the door, just a little too harshly.

“What’s with her?” Huey asked.

“She’s dazzled by the Mountie’s glow,” Ray teased.

Once outside Welsh’s office, Frannie paused to catch the breath that had escaped her upon seeing Fraser. Temporarily lost in thought, she failed to notice Renfield approach.

“Good morning, Francesca,” Renfield smiled. “How are –” 

“Mornin’, Renfield. They’re just great. Still sleepin’ when I left.”

“I want to thank you again for volunteering to give Kerri and Beth a place to stay. It’s not –” 

“Volunteer? Heck, there wasn’t any volunteering about it. My Ma woulda had our heads if we didn’t bring Kerri and Liza ta stay at our place.”

“Thank her for me, please? I’m probably not going to have time for a while.” Renfield looked into Welsh’s office and sighed.

Frannie took his large hand into her much smaller one. “It’s gonna be okay, ya know? We’ll get that McGill guy, ‘n put him in a hole so deep he won’t even be able ta see daylight.”

Frannie’s ferocity caused Renfield to smile. “You’re right, of course.”

Inspector Thatcher was on the phone when Renfield entered the office, closing the door softly behind him. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was speaking to Superintendent McIntyre, in Ottawa.

“– I understand that, Sir, but you have to understand that we’re anticipating an all-out war between McGill’s faction and Dupré’s. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated, and the sooner the better.” Renfield could tell by her body language that the Inspector was not getting much.

She finally hung up with a sigh. “They’ve detained three of McGill’s known associates at the Cornwall border crossing, just southwest of Montreal. Another two were stopped at the Toronto airport. They have no idea if that is all of them, or even if there are others trying to come into the country by other means. They’ve been interrogating the first three in Montreal for a couple of hours, but so far no luck. All they know for sure is that the two that were picked up at the airport had tickets for Chicago. They were supposed to arrive at noon today.”

“Isn’t McGill going to be surprised when he doesn’t have much, or maybe any, backup!” Dewey chimed in.

Welsh had gotten on the phone right after Meg hung it up, and now slammed the receiver down. “Doesn’t anybody in this entire city know where anyone else is? If we don’t find all these guys, and soon –” Welsh stopped in mid-sentence, upon seeing Turnbull.

“Please don’t let me interrupt you, Sir. But I think I know what you were going to say. If we don’t find these guys soon, my life isn’t going to be worth very much.”

Chapter 28

Emotionally spent, Sheila slept for several hours. Ever vigilant, Ray did not leave her side for even a minute during those hours. Finally, Bobby Malone called him to the doorway.

“Fraser didn’t want to bother you, in case she was sleepin’, or something, so he called me,” Bobby whispered, looking around Ray toward where Sheila was sleeping. “She’s sure looking a lot better.”

“Physically, yeah,” Ray whispered.

Bobby looked from Sheila to Ray, and then back again. “Give her some time. Whatever that SOB did ta her, it’s gonna take a while for her ta get over it.”

Wanting desperately to change the subject, Ray asked, “what did Fraser want?”

“He wanted ya ta know that they’re gettin' nowhere fast finding McGill. He wanted ya ta talk ta Sheila again bout anything she might remember.” Seeing Ray’s reaction, he added, “I know it hurts her ta think bout it, but she’s all they’ve got right now.”

“Ray?” Sheila called from behind them. “Ray, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, ta wake ya,” Bobby said. “Just wanted ta see how you’re doing.”

Sheila struggled to sit up, and with just a little help from Ray, she was able to accomplish her goal. “I heard what you said to Ray, Sheriff. You don’t know how much I’d like to help, but I just can’t remember anything else.”

“Honey, do you feel up to talking about this again? I know how hard it is for you to –”

“I’ve got to do this, Ray. It’s my job and I need to do what I can to help Renfield. McGill’s still after him.”

“Would you rather I left?” Bobby asked.

“No, that’s okay, Sheriff. Maybe you can help.”

Bobby took a chair next to the doorway, hoping to be a little less intrusive, as Ray sat next to the bed. “I know we’ve been over this before, but let’s try again.”

Sheila made herself as comfortable as she could. “McGill contacted me as soon as he escaped. I knew what he was planning, sort of, just not when he was going to actually do it. So I was a little surprised when he called to say he was out. He was always really closed mouthed about what he was going to do after he got out, but we were pretty sure he was going to pull off a huge arms deal, involving the US and probably the Middle East.”

“We?” Malone asked.

“Yeah, Scott, Scott Foster, my RCMP contact and me. After I left Detroit with McGill, Scott was my contact to get information to Dupré and to the RCMP.”

Sheriff Malone whistled softly. “Dangerous game you were playing.”

Sheila touched her still severely bruised eye. “Don’t I know it.”

“But after McGill escaped, you couldn’t contact Foster as often?” Ray asked, hoping to take her mind off her injuries.

“After we left Quebec City, I never had a chance to contact anyone. Norm . . . McGill was with me every second.”

“What route did you take into the States?”

“He just had me head west, via the Trans-Canada Highway. I never knew where we were going. He just kept at me…” she couldn’t go on, starting to cry again.

“Maybe we should stop for now. This is just too hard on you.”

“No, Ray! Please! I need to do this. I can’t let that son of a bitch beat me! I can’t!”

Sheriff Malone suddenly realized what Ray saw in this woman. Not many people he knew could go through what she had, and still be willing to talk about it.

Ray took her good hand for reassurance, and she began again. “We headed all the way to BC. As soon as we got close to the Washington border I knew what he intended to do, where he intended to go –”

“How?”

“He has this almost pathological sense of irony. I think it appeals to his over inflated sense of his own brilliance. I saw the sign for the Laurier, Washington and I knew that he was after Renfield.”

“I don’t get it?” Bobby asked.

“Turnbull works with Fraser at the Consulate.” Ray said. “A couple of years ago, when Sheila and I were undercover in Las Vegas, Turnbull, Fraser and a group of others came to town for Turnbull’s wedding. It turned out that Turnbull had a twin brother, a crime boss from Canada – René Laurier. Turnbull ended up killing him.”

“And McGill was Laurier’s step brother,” Sheila’s sighed. “Even though McGill hated Laurier, he had some kind of misguided loyalty to the Richelieu Family. And that meant he had to exact revenge on Renfield.” Sheila buried her face in her uninjured hand. “I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I tried to stop him, he just kept watching me, and hurting me and I couldn’t get away from him!”

Ray took her in his arms as Bobby left them alone.

After he was able to get her calmed down, Ray placed a call to Kowalski.

“Ray Kowalski’s desk.”

“That you, Turnbull?”

“Yes, Ray. Ray Kowalski is, ah, indisposed at the moment.”

“In the can?”

Renfield blushed slightly. “Yes, Ray.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll tell you that nothing’s new. Sheila’s told us everything she can remember. I don’t think that she’s going to be any help in finding McGill.”

“Thanks for the update, Ray. We’re not having much luck here, either. How’s Sheila feeling?”

“Much better, physically, at least. She still doesn’t know about Lance, and I’m not going to tell her for a while. She feels really badly that she can’t be of more use to you. It would have been really ironic if it was Sheila that caught McGill.”

“Ironic?”

“Sheila was saying that McGill has a pathological sense of irony. He was always telling her how stupid she was. It would have been really ironic if he was caught by a dumb, blonde, woman – who was dead.” 

“Maybe something she’s remembered will be what catches him. I hope so,” Renfield sighed. “Please give her my best? She’s a very brave lady.”

Chapter 29

Renfield never did get a chance to tell Ray Kowalski that Ray Vecchio had called. Kowalski had left the building without ever returning to his desk. Renfield hoped that he and Fraser had come up with some important lead.

Feeling at loose ends, Renfield decided to visit his family. It had been hours since Frannie had taken Kerri and Beth to her house for the night, and Renfield missed them desperately. He knew how upset Kerri was over Lance’s death and knew how much comfort he could be to her. So yes, he needed to see her.

The tiny niggling started in the back of his mind just as he stepped foot in the parking lot. By the time he unlocked his car, he was frowning in an effort to turn the niggling into a coherent thought. By the time he pulled onto the busy street in front of the Station, he had almost gotten a handle on it.

He almost ran a red light as he concentrated on what was bothering him. Ray Vecchio had said that McGill had a pathological sense of irony. Why was that bothering him so much?

He drove on, toward the Vecchio home, so deep in concentration he had become rather a menace to traffic. Not seeing the pedestrian, who was carrying her sewing machine across an intersection, he sped on, completely oblivious to the profanity she shouted, that would have made even Ray blush.

He was within two blocks of the Vecchio house when it hit him. Of course! Several months ago he and Kerri had spent a lovely Sunday afternoon driving around, looking at the architecture of some of Chicago’s more famous buildings. It was a pastime she loved, and although he would never admit it to Ray, he rather enjoyed looking at the old buildings himself. 

In their travels that day they had wound up in a rather disreputable neighborhood on the south side. They had driven down an entire block of abandoned buildings that looked to be slated for demolition. He remembered Kerri commenting on how sad it was that they would be torn down. She believed with all her heart that old buildings had a soul. He would never admit to going quite that far, but he did believe that the history of the old structures gave them a character that the glass and steel buildings of the 20th Century would never have.

Toward the middle of the block they saw it. A small building that caused them both to gasp. The worn sign, painted on the front of the shop said ‘Turnbull and Sons’. The building had obviously been abandoned for many years, but the sight caused both of them great sadness. It had reminded them of Renfield’s father’s bakery in Vancouver. Renfield had promised himself that very day that nothing like this would ever happen to his father’s business. A business that had been in the family for generations.

Renfield pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street, but it wasn’t the memory of the Turnbull and Sons’ that forced him to change his destination. Hearing about McGill’s sense of irony had triggered another memory. The name on a small, two-story office building just two doors down from the Turnbull building – McGill Travel.

Renfield had a hunch. It was a very long shot, but maybe, just maybe, McGill would be holding his meeting in just such a building.

He argued with himself all the way to the south side. He’d decided before he even got out of the Vecchio’s neighborhood that he wasn’t going to call Ray or Constable Fraser, because he really didn’t feel like being laughed at. But he just couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

The more he thought about it, the more stupid the idea sounded. He could just see Ray rolling his eyes. And since when did he ever have hunches? Of course, there was the time they rescued little Maria from that lighthouse. That had been a hunch.

So, after parking his car several blocks away, he sneaked down the alley behind Turnbull and Sons’ and up to the corner of the building next door to McGill Travel, where he waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Well over two hours later, Renfield was ready to admit he’d been mistaken. As hunches go, this one had been a dud. Boy, am I glad I didn’t call Ray, he thought. He’d never let me hear the end of this one.

Extremely discouraged, and just slightly deflated that he hadn’t been able to save the day without the help of Ray or Constable Fraser, Renfield was about to walk away, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Two men, one short and stocky, the other very tall and muscular, walked right under the streetlight and up to the McGill Travel building. Renfield silently thanked God that the city had seen fit to leave the electricity on in this block. When they reached front door, the shorter man turned to survey the street, and Renfield immediately recognized him as Norman McGill.

Although he stood in total darkness, Renfield pressed his body hard against the building, in an attempt to make himself even more inconspicuous. As he leaned around the corner to watch the street beyond, he heard a noise behind him a split second before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. It was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.

Chapter 30

The call came in to the front desk of the 27th Precinct about 6:00pm. The caller, a man who was obviously trying to disguise his voice, refused to give his name, but demanded to speak to Detective Ray Vecchio.

The desk sergeant, who was not having a particularly good day, informed the caller that LIEUTENANT Vecchio was out of the state, and therefore not available to speak to unidentified callers.

“Look, lady. This’s important. I’ve got some information he needs. Just transfer me to his cell phone. I know he’s got it with him, wherever he is. That thing’s like welded to his ear.”

“Not without a name.”

“Lady, this’s important, otherwise there’d be no way I’d be talking to Vecchio, Detective or not.”

“Not without a name,” she repeated, just about ready to hang up on the unknown caller.

“You’ll transfer me to him if I give you my name?”

“Yes.”

“Zuko. Tell Vecchio it’s Frank Zuko.”

Ray was sitting beside Sheila, watching her sleep, when his phone rang. He hurried out of the room, hoping that the ringing hadn’t awakened her.

He almost hung up when Sergeant Hansen told him who was calling. Of all the people on this or any other planet that he did NOT want to talk to, Frankie Zuko was right at the top of the list. However, Hansen had also told him that Zuko had information.

“Frankie! What slimy rock did you crawl out from under?” Ray asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Look, Vecchio, I can barely stomach the thought of talking to you, either. But I hear you’re looking for info on a big arms deal going down. I just might know something about it.”

“Info in exchange for what? You want me to let you beat up the Mountie, again?” Ray’s voice rose until he was almost shouting into the phone.

“Look, I’m trying to do the right thing, here.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna believe you’d ever try to do the right thing.”

“Look, you want my info, or not?”

“How’d you know anything about Chicago? Last I heard, you split town right after parole, and went to la la land. Making commercials about your Italian mama, or something. Good riddance.”

Frank ignored the ‘good riddance’ crack. “Right, I’m calling from LA. I’m trying to be a better example for my kid.”

“Riiiight. Like I believe that one, too.”

“Look, this guy, McGill, he’s doing business with some pretty bad guys. Some terrorists outta the Middle East. You may not think I’m the most upstanding citizen, but I am a patriot. My family’s gotta live in this country, and I don’t want any more Americans hurt on American soil.”

If Ray knew anything about Zuko, it was that he loved his family. He may not have always treated them the best, but he was loyal. Zuko suddenly had his undivided attention.

“What you got?”

“There’s this block of abandoned buildings on the south side, set for demolition. McGill’s set up shop in one of them. Thinks the name on the sign’s funny – McGill Travel.”

“You sure about this?” Ray breathed.

“You think I’d take the trouble to talk to you if I wasn’t?”

“Right,” Ray admitted. “Look, Frank, ah…”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah.”

Ray hung up quickly, and just as quickly made another call – to Kowalski’s cell phone.

“Kowalski!”

“Where you at?”

Ray would have gifted Vecchio with his usual witty, smart-ass come back, but something in Vecchio’s tone told Ray that now was not the time for jokes. “Down by Calumet City. Why?”

“Good. Fraser with you?”

“Yeah. One a the guys picked up at the Toronto airport has a sister down here. She wasn’t any help. We’re on our way back ta town.”

“You need to get over to 79th and Colfax –”

“That’s a lovely neighborhood for this time a night.”

“Listen! McGill’s step up shop in an abandoned building. Used to be McGill Travel. Don’t know the address, but there’s a bunch of –”

“I know!” Ray snapped. Vecchio wasn’t the only cop who knew his turf. “Blocks gonna be torn down for some plant. Micro sumpthin’ or other. Sheila remember sumpthin’?”

“Frank Zuko.”

“Zuko?” Ray yelled, suddenly gaining the undivided attention of the man sitting next to him in the car.

“Yeah, we’ve got this love affair goin’ on. He shares all his nasty little secrets with me.”

“Yeah, right before he has his goons beat the crap outta ya.”

“Or Fraser.”

“What’s he know bout McGill?”

“Zuko says he’s gone and gotten patriotic. Wants to help bring McGill down for dealing with terrorists.” Vecchio paused momentarily. “This may be a trap.”

“No kiddin’!”

“Just be sure you call for backup. This could get pretty messy.” Ray paused once again. “Look, just be careful.”

“I love you, too.” Ray made three smacking sounds into the phone, before he hung up.

Stepping on the gas, Ray waited about two heartbeats before his partner spoke up. “Are you going to share your phone call with me, or do I have to beg?”

“Thought the mention of Zuko would get yer attention. Called Vecchio. Said he wanted ta help nail McGill cause he’s selling weapons ta terrorists.”

“Zuko,” Fraser mused, “does nothing without an agenda. I have to wonder what it is.”

“Turf?”

“A distinct possibility. He may not be in Chicago physically, but he may very well still want to run things here.”

“So we do his dirty work for him.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then his info is –” 

“– more than likely correct.”

“Why didn’t ya say so sooner!” Ray shouted as he stomped on the accelerator.

Chapter 31

“Boss, my arm’s killin’ me. Couldn’t you go without me?”

“I don’t give a shit if your god damn arm is about to fall off! This thing’s set up for tomorrow and we’re sure as hell gonna make sure it happens. We’ve got to go check out the place.”

“What about the others? Where ya think they are? Should we be goin’ inta that neighborhood without ‘em?”

Norman was about halfway out the door when he stepped back into the motel room. Closing the door quietly behind him, he glared at the man he considered his mental inferior. “Chuck,” he whispered, “I am going to say this again. But it will be the last time I say it. SHUT UP! I DO THE THINKING HERE! IF I NEED A STUPID OPINION, I’LL ASK YOU!”

“Sorry, Boss,” the larger man whispered.

They drove the several miles to 79th and Colfax in, for Norman at least, blessed silence. Chuck did not say a word the entire way. He had plotted the directions on a map provided by the car rental agency, so he hadn’t even needed to ask Norman about that.

Once there, Chuck stashed the car down the street and they marched right up to what once had been the McGill Travel Agency, Norman laughing maniacally.

“This is so good!” Norman muttered to himself, between fits of laughter.

“What’s so funny, Boss?” Chuck asked, before he remembered he was supposed to ‘shut the hell up’.

“Shut up, Chuck.”

Norman opened the door with a rusty key inserted into a rusty lock. Chuck figured that it would have been just as easy to blow on the door to get it open.

Both men stepped into the darkness, and Norman closed the door behind them. As soon as the door was closed, Norman and his companion were knocked unconscious.

When Norman came to, he was lying on the floor, with his hands and feet tied behind him, and a burlap sack over his head. Struggling against his bonds, Norman rose to his knees, as he began to shout.

“Do you know who the hell I am? Do you know just how much trouble you’ve bought yourself? Get this bag off my head!”

(necessary translation will follow)

« On sais ben t’es qui, Norman? », a disembodied voice responded softly, from across the room. « Pis l’trouble qu’on s’est apporté c’est rien comme l’trouble q’t’nous a ammené, » the man whispered.

Norman cocked his head to the side, desperately trying to identify the voice. “Who’s that?” he demanded. “Dupré? That you? Speak English when you’re speaking to me! Get this bag off my head, or I’ll . . .”

« Tu vas quoi, Norman? M’faire tuer? Tes soldats sont d’tenus à frontière, Norman. » “Is this what you want to hear, Normie? You have no firepower!” the man began to shout, switching to McGill’s beloved English. “You have no backup. You have no BALLS! YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The man yelled as he gave Norman a hard kick to the groin.

Norman screamed and fell backwards onto his bound hands and feet. Writhing in pain, two sets of strong hands hauled him back up to his knees, where they held him in place.

The searing pain in his crotch caused him to cry like a baby, but he was still vaguely aware of a moan next to him and a body also being hauled to their knees.

« C’est qui? » Norman sobbed. « Enlève s’foutu sac d’ma tête pis affronte moé comme un homme! »

« Comme l’homme q’t’es, Norman? Gros homme brave, Normie. Y t’a fallu qu’qu’un d’autre pour tuer un légumier sans armes. Mais t’peux battre une femme pis la laisser à mourir. T’en fait à traiter les autres d’idiots ! Mais d’vine quoi, Normie? Shiela c’tait d’la FBI ! T’es t’un foutu idiot, Normie! » the man laughed. « T’casser avec une FED ! Foutu idiot! »

Norman heard the rush of air as the unknown voice swung in a circle and landed another kick, this one to his head. Being held in place by the two sets of arms, Norman’s body didn’t move, but his head snapped back, almost breaking his neck.

« Foutu idiot, » several voices in the room began to chant.

« T’aime ça, Normie? Être sans gosses pis niaiseux ? » Another kick landed in his mid-section. « Réponds-moé ! Sinon l’autre va être un peu plus bas. » And still the voices chanted ‘foutu idiot’.

« S’te’plait!, S’te’plait! » he whispered, the breath having completely left him. « Qui’s’la ferme! M’fait pû mal! Qu’veux-tu d’moé ? »

« Juste ta vie, Normie. C’est toi qu’a mis bout à l’organisation. Richelieu est mort, Normie, comme toi. »

« S’il vous plait! » Norman blubbered like a baby. « Tue moé pas! No ! » Norman felt the barrel of a revolver pressed against his forehead. « S’te’plait! » he sobbed. « Ne fait pas – » a split second later his blood and brains were blown around the room, splattering the man who knelt next to him.

____________________________________

(And now for those of you who, like me, do not speak a word of Québécois – let’s hear Norman beg for his life in English. Plus it’s kind of fun to read it twice, don’t you think?)

When Norman came to, he was lying on the floor, with his hands and feet tied behind him, and a burlap sack over his head. Struggling against his bonds, Norman rose to his knees, as he began to shout.

“Do you know who I am? Do you know just how much trouble you’ve bought yourself? Get this bag off my head!”

“We know very well who you are, Norman,” a disembodied voice responded softly, from across the room. “And the trouble we’ve bought ourselves is nothing compared to the trouble you’ve brought us,” the man whispered.

Norman cocked his head to the side, desperately trying to identify the voice. “Who’s that?” he demanded. “Dupré? That you? Speak English when you’re speaking to me! Get this bag off my head, or I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what, Norman? You’ll have me killed? Your soldiers have been detained at the border, Norman. Is this what you want to hear, Normie? You have no firepower!” the man began to shout, in English. “You have no backup. You have no BALLS! YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The man yelled as he gave Norman a hard kick to the groin.

Norman screamed and fell backwards onto his bound hands and feet. Writhing in pain, two sets of strong hands hauled him back up to his knees, where they held him in place.

The searing pain in his crotch caused him to cry like a baby, but he was still vaguely aware of a moan next to him and a body also being hauled to their knees.

“Who’s that?” he sobbed. “Take this bag off my head and face me like a man!”

“Like the man you are, Norman? Big, brave, manly man, Normie. Had to have someone else shoot an unarmed veggie man. But you can beat up a woman and leave her for dead. You really get off on calling everyone else an idiot! But guess what, Normie? Sheila was FBI! You’re the idiot, Normie,” the man laughed, “getting it on with a FED! What an idiot!”

Norman heard the rush of air as the unknown voice swung in a circle and landed another kick, this one to his head. Being held in place by the two sets of arms, Norman’s body didn’t move, but his head snapped back, almost breaking his neck.

“Idiot,” several voices in the room began to chant.

“Like how it feels, Normie? To be ball-less and stupid?” Another kick landed in his mid-section. “Answer me! Or the next one’s going to be just a little lower.” And still the voices chanted ‘idiot’.

“Please! Please!” he whispered, the breath having completely left him. “Shut them up! Don’t hurt me anymore! What do you want from me?”

“Just your life, Normie. You’ve run this organization into the ground. Richelieu is dead, Normie, and so are you.”

“Please!” Norman blubbered like a baby. “Please don’t kill me! No!” Norman felt the barrel of a revolver pressed against his forehead. “Please!” he sobbed. “Don’t do –” a split second later his blood and brains were blown around the room, splattering the man who knelt next to him.

Chapter 32

The disembodied voice turned to the other man, who now knelt, alone, in front of him. “And now for you Constable Turnbull. Your fate is in my hands, Constable. Will you beg for your life, as McGill begged? As a child? And embarrass yourself and your uniform?”

Renfield knew that he was going to die, but oddly it was not as important to him as the pride he took in his role as a Mountie. “I don’t know who you are Sir, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I will not beg,” he said, defiantly.

“I thought as much,” the man with the heavy accent acknowledged. “We are well-acquainted with your history, Constable.” He turned away from Renfield and spoke to others in the room. Renfield understood little of the Québécois conversation, but really wasn’t listening anyway. His thoughts were of his family and his prayers with Kerri, that she would find the strength to raise Beth by herself. To his chagrin, he also thought of Fraser, and wondered if his fellow officer would be proud of him, or think he had, once again, failed.

Just as suddenly as he had turned way, the speaker turned back to Renfield. “McGill is dead, and with him the Richelieu Family has died,” the man said evenly. “Our new organization was in your debt, Constable Turnbull. You killed René Laurier and were instrumental in bringing us McGill. We have eliminated the man who would have killed you. As far as the new organization is concerned, our debt is repaid.”

Renfield heard a sudden whoosh of air and then, once again, he lay unconscious on the floor.  
____________________________________

Frankie Zuko’s information led them to an abandoned building on the south side. It reminded Fraser of another building where he had once sought help for Renfield, that manufacturing plant belonging to the Bolt family. This one had the requisite broken out but boarded up windows and doors. The major difference between this building and the Bolt’s was that this building was much smaller and had housed a travel agency on the first floor and miscellaneous offices on the second. 

They split up to search the building, Fraser taking the ground floor and Ray taking the second. Even though there was no sign of life in the building now, both police officers sensed the importance of this place.

Ray climbed the rickety stairs quietly, letting his service revolver lead the way. He stepped gingerly through the assorted trash and stepped over the remnants of a street person’s former home. He shuddered when he heard what he assumed was a rat scurry across the broken flooring, somewhere up ahead. He crept on through the darkness, his cop instincts telling him that something was very wrong here. 

When he reached the landing, he smelled it – blood, a lot of it from what he could tell. He crept along the corridor and slowly pushed the first door open with the barrel of his revolver. The name printed on the glass part of the door told him that this had apparently once been some sort of cheesy private investigator’s office. The door wasn’t even halfway open when he saw the body, surrounded by massive amounts of blood, pooled on the bare wood floor

“FRASER! UP HERE!” Less than a second later, Ray was on his knees next to the lifeless form. Gently raising Turnbull’s head, Ray slipped off the burlap bag.

He heard Fraser hurry in behind him and heard the normally stoic Mountie gasp. “He’s alive!” Ray exalted. “He’s unconscious, but the blood’s not his.”

Fraser knelt next to Ray as they both examined Turnbull’s injuries. “You’d better call an ambulance,” Fraser demanded, as he carefully untied Turnbull’s legs and hands.

Ray was just about to pull his cell phone out of his pocket, when both men heard Turnbull moan. “Don’t bother with that,” Renfield winced as he tried to touch the wound on his head.

“Careful, there, buddy. Somebudy gave ya a good clocking with a pipe or sumpthin’.”

“It was a 2x4 about 60cm long, I’d say.”

Ray didn’t take his eyes off Turnbull as he responded to Fraser. “Ya may be Super Mountie, but there’s no way ya could possibly know that.”

“Of course I could, Ray. As a matter of fact, I’m positive about it.”

“No way.”

“The weapon is lying right by your feet, Ray.”

“Oh,” Ray muttered. When Turnbull moaned and winced again, Ray and Fraser turned their attention back to him. 

“Ya know who ya are, buddy?”

“Yes, Ray. I’m the,” he winced again as he tried to sit up, “the idiot who came here without backup.”

“That’d be you,” Ray smiled at his friend. “Ya know what happened here?” Ray grabbed hold of Turnbull’s upper arm, to help him to his feet. Sensing that standing was taking the younger man far too much effort, he asked, “you okay, man?”

“Now that you mention it, Ray, I’m thinking I’d better sit a minute longer. I’m a little dizzy.”

Fraser and Ray looked at him closely. He had begun to sweat profusely. “Concussion,” they whispered, in unison.

“I’ll be okay, I just need a minute.” He clutched the back of his head and when he pulled his hand away, it was covered with blood. “Maybe a little more than a minute.”

“Can you remember what happened, Constable?” Fraser asked, as he knelt and applied his handkerchief to the back of Turnbull’s head

“Yes,” he winced again, as Fraser put pressure on the wound. “I had a hunch. I didn’t want to bother either of you.” He winced again when he saw the look on Ray’s face. “I know, Ray, stupid move,” he paused, briefly, to try to adjust his position. He breathed a couple of short, shallow breaths before he could continue. “Anyway, it was just getting dark when I arrived. I hid outside the building for a while before I saw McGill and another man enter through the front door. I was about to follow them when the lights went out.”

“You were hit outside?”

“The first time.”

“You were hit more ‘n once? Shit! No wonder ya got a concussion.”

“I’m sure it’s not a concussion. I’ve just got a headache.”

“And a lump on the back of your head the size of a golf ball,” Fraser interrupted. “Whose is this?” he asked, motioning to the huge amount of blood on the floor.

“McGill’s. They killed him. Executed would probably be a more apt description.” Turnbull finally admitted to himself that he was too weak to stand and sank back against Fraser. “When I came to, I was lying here on the floor, hog tied, and had that blasted sack over my head. I tried not to move, but they must have known I’d regained consciousness, because before I knew what was happening I was dragged to my knees.”

“How’d ya know –”

“McGill was next to me. He must have been bound, with a sack over his head too, because he shouted and cursed to be let go. Whoever our captors were, I’m assuming they were Dupré’s henchmen, spoke to him in French, Québécois actually. My French must be really rusty. That infuriated McGill.”

“Constable, you’re beginning to drift a little, here. How do you know they executed him?”

“The leader of the henchmen called him some rather unpleasant names, and then I heard them talking among themselves. I didn’t understand most of it, but apparently McGill did, because he started begging for his life. About two minutes later there was a gunshot, very, very close to my head.” He jerked his head to the side, as if trying to avoid the memory. “I felt – felt the blood and bone splatter on my hands and the sack. They must have shot him in the head.

“I knew I was dead, too. I remember thinking how upset Kerri would be with me for leaving her, and how Beth would have lost two fathers before she was six months old. And how I would miss them both so much.” Renfield’s eyes misted temporarily, but when they cleared he looked directly at Fraser. “But I wasn’t afraid,” he whispered. “I was actually felt rather proud of myself, and I wanted desperately for you to know that.

“Obviously, they didn’t shoot me. The leader told me that the Richelieu Family was dead, and therefore there was no one left to seek revenge. They did manage to knock me out, again, before they left.” Renfield looked from Fraser to Ray and back again. “I guess I’m off the hook,” he smiled.

Fraser and Ray took Renfield by the arms and helped him to his feet. “We’re going to drive you to the hospital, Constable.” Before he could object, Fraser continued. “There is no way we are going to face Kerri’s wrath if we bring you home looking the way you do.”

“Sides, they gotta do one a them CAT scan things. No way I’m gonna pass up the chance ta see if there really is swiss cheese under that thick skull.”

“Thanks, Ray,” Renfield said. And he was not sincere.

Chapter 33

“McGill’s dead!” Ray shouted as he ran in to Sheila’s room.

“Dead?” Sheila whispered.

“Yeah. Fraser didn’t say much, but it seems he was executed by Dupré’s men. Maybe even Dupré himself.”

“Did he know anything about Scott?” she asked, hopefully.

“Scott? Oh, your RCMP guy. No, Fraser didn’t mention him.” Ray watched her eyes. She’d been close to this man, he could tell. But, of course, why not? They were undercover together, and even though they hadn’t been together very long, Ray knew very well how close two people could become – very quickly. “I’ll see what I can find out. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m just worried about him, you know?”

“I’ll be right back.” Ray stepped outside and called Fraser back.

“Benny, you heard anything about a Constable Foster? He was undercover with Dupré. Sheila’s really worried about him.”

“We just heard that two bodies were found this morning, Ray. Dumped in an alley near where McGill was killed. Turnbull has gone to try to identify the remains. It seems he knew Scott Foster at Depot.”

“God, does this get any worse for the guy?”

“He’s bearing up very well, all things considered. He went through some very bad times after he killed Laurier. I don’t think the same thing is going to happen again. Plus, he’s got Kerri and Elizabeth. Having family helps a lot.” 

“Depending on the family, of course.” Ray shuddered at the thought of the Iguanas and the Richelieus. Two meaner groups of people never walked the earth. “Let me know as soon as you hear? I hate to give her bad news, feeling the way she does, but she needs to know.” 

Ray pasted a smile on his face and went back to Sheila’s room. To his relief, Aileen Malone was sitting in his chair. “Reading time already?” Ray grinned.

“Yep, same time, same place, every day.” 

“I’m gonna split for a couple of hours of shut-eye. Just wanted to tell you that Fraser’s looking in to what might have happened to Foster. I’ll let you know just as soon as I find out anything.” Ray winked at Aileen. “Take good care of my girl,” he ordered as he left the room.

“Who’s Foster?” Aileen asked, upon seeing Sheila’s face.

Sheila smiled weakly at her companion. “We didn’t have anything going on, if that’s what you think. He was my contact in Dupré’s organization,” she smiled at the memory. “He thought it was funny that he was RCMP working the US and I was FBI working in Canada. Funny how that turned out.”

“You feel like talking? We can save the book for tomorrow.” Aileen asked, hopefully. She’d lived through two children’s teenaged years and she knew when someone needed to talk.

Sheila sighed. “I’d really like to hear some more of the story. This Josephine March writes a pretty good mystery.”

About an hour later Ray’s phone rang, waking him out of a very sound sleep.

“Vecchio,” he yawned.

“Oh! I’m sorry I awakened you, Ray, but I thought you’d like to know about Constable Foster.”

“Yeah, sure, Benny,” Ray was wide-awake now, sitting up in Mark’s bed. “Turnbull do the ID?”

“Well, not exactly. That is, Meg called Superintendent McIntyre and, although he wouldn’t tell her much, he did say that he had personal knowledge that Foster is still alive. And Turnbull is almost positive that the second body recovered is that of the man who was with McGill when he entered the travel agency. He was killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest, but he also had an older, but still fairly fresh bullet wound to his left arm.”

“Ah, the guy Kowalski shot.”

“Presumably. The other man’s head was pretty much gone, but Turnbull was able to identify the torso as fitting the description of McGill.”

“Turnbull doing okay?”

“The coroner told Ray that he was afraid that Turnbull was going to pass out upon seeing McGill’s body.”

“Can’t say as I blame him. Must be a pretty gruesome sight.” Ray shuddered.

“We’ve all had quite a time over the last couple of days, Ray. But Turnbull and Sheila have certainly gotten the worst of it.”

“Tell Turnbull he’s gonna make Sheila one happy lady.”

“I’m sure that will make him feel much better. Thanks, Ray.”

“This over, Benny?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid. Dupré’s still at large, although the FBI is saying it’s their jurisdiction, we’ve got to get through Lance’s funeral, and you’ve got to see to Sheila. It’s winding down, but it’s not over yet.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for the funeral. I liked Lance, he was a good kid.”

“Yes, he was. I suspect it will be a rather large funeral.”

Chapter 34

Renfield slumped into a very comfortable, overstuffed chair in the Vecchio’s living room, being as careful as he could to not wrinkle his good black suit. It had been a long time since he’d felt so weary. It had only been a few days since Norman McGill had blasted his way into their lives, but he felt as if he had aged 10 years.

He tried his best to ignore the huge bandage on the back of his head, and the huge headache that accompanied it, but it seemed no matter where he rested his head, he aggravated his wound.

He sighed as he remembered Ray calling him a ‘sorehead’. Yes, that was him, all right – sore head, sore body, sore heart, sore soul. He couldn’t help but blame himself, in a small way, for all that had happened. Kerri said that none of it was his fault, and in his head he believed her. But in his heart, he just couldn’t get passed the fact that Norman McGill had only come to Chicago because of him. If he hadn’t gone to Las Vegas – if he hadn’t met René – if he hadn’t – he sighed deeply. If he hadn’t gone to Las Vegas, he might not have married Kerri, and if he hadn’t met René, Ray Vecchio and Sheila might have been discovered and killed.

He slammed his fist against the unsuspecting chair. If, if, if, it seemed that his whole existence was full of ifs. 

Mrs. Vecchio watched the young man from the doorway that lead to the dining room. She knew what he was thinking, and she knew there was little she could do to help him. But, since when had that ever stopped her from interfering?

“Renfield? Could you give me a hand with something in the kitchen? With all those people coming here after the funeral, I need some of my big serving dishes, and I can’t reach them.”

Renfield jerked himself out of his self-pity and jumped up to help her. “Of course! Just point me in the right direction.”

“It’s very helpful, having someone so tall around the house. Even my Raymond can’t reach that serving tray without a step stool,” she commented as she watched Renfield pull the tray down from on top of the cupboard. “Thank you.”

Renfield set the dishes on the counter and turned to her. “Mrs., that is, Ma, I need to thank you. I don’t know how we could have made it through the last few days without your help. Helping with the funeral, taking Kerri and Beth in, when it might have been dangerous to do so – all of it.” He pulled the older woman into a great big hug.

“Where I come from that’s what families do for each other,” she said when Renfield let her go. “And I consider you and your little family to be part of mine. You, Stanley, and Benton and even Margaret are like my own. I tell you when you do right and I tell you when you do wrong. I do what I can to protect you. Police officers, my foot. It’s your Italian Mama that knows what’s best for you!” she laughed.

“I bet you’d even take me over your knee if I screwed up!”

“You betcha! None of my children have grown so big that they won’t get a good switching – if that’s what they deserve. Except for little Mary Elizabeth. That little angel will never do anything wrong.”

Renfield rolled his eyes. “One can only hope.”

“Renfield, we do need to speak of one matter,” she said, seriously. “I have watched you. You are blaming yourself for what happened to poor Lance. That’s wrong, it’s not God’s will that you blame yourself. That man – that McGill – he was evil. It was evil that killed Lance, and there was nothing you could do. We will grieve for him, we will bury him, and we will go on. That’s what God wants and that’s what Lance would have wanted.”

“Ma,” Renfield hesitated, “Lance was, what I mean is, he was –”

“He was a fine young man. He was kind and respectful to an old lady and treated everyone the same. That is all I need to know about Lance.”

“But your religion –”

“You never mind about my religion. I know in my heart that God loves Lance, and that’s all I care to know. We will bury him today and he is in God’s hands now.”

“Ma, I love you.”

Mrs. Vecchio swatted him with her dishtowel. “You’d better!”

____________________________________

Unfortunately for the large group of mourners, it was pouring rain and bitterly cold as they made their way to the gravesite. A massive cloud of black umbrellas moved as one across the wet grass toward the open grave, Renfield, Kerri, and Ray Kowalski leading the way.

Kerri clutched Renfield’s arm so tightly that he was sure she was going to cut off the circulation, but he was also sure that she needed the support to keep standing. She had wept openly during the short church service, and it seemed to have sapped all of her strength.

Renfield watched as the mourners gathered around the gravesite, scanning the crowd for Lance’s parents. Kerri had had a very unpleasant conversation with Lance’s father shortly after the shooting that still made Renfield furious to think about. Kerri, thinking that someone who cared for Lance should be the one to notify his parents, had placed the call, hoping to speak to Lance’s mother.

Unfortunately, she had gotten his father on the line. As Kerri tearfully recounted the conversation to Renfield, Lance’s father had basically told her to ‘go to hell’. He didn’t want anything to do with his faggot son or his son’s faggot friends. Kerri had tried to tell him that she loved Lance like a brother, but had had that thrown back in her face, too.

And so Renfield scanned the large group, hoping to spot Lance’s parents. He had a few choice words for the man who had, among other things, made his wife cry.

It took him several moments, but eventually he recognized Lance’s mother. Lance kept a picture of her on the desk in the bookshop ‘office’. The woman was more somber, and much grayer than in her picture, but Renfield knew her at once. Standing next to her was a tall man who was obviously Lance’s father. He was the spitting image of his son. He was older, of course, and sterner, with hard eyes and a scowl that made Renfield frown, but he was definitely the father.

Kerri felt Renfield tense and looked in the same direction. Upon seeing who Renfield was staring at, she just shook her head. “Renfield? Please don’t make a scene? They can’t help who they are. At least they came.”

She thought she heard him mutter “hypocrite” but she couldn’t be certain. They both turned their attention toward the pastor, when the man began to speak.

“I first met Lance at Northwestern University,” Pastor Smith yelled over the rain, that had started coming down in torrents. “I was the Chaplain and he had a problem. I grew to like the unassuming young man and met with him quite often. He spoke to me about his friends and the job he had at the bookshop. I feel like I know each and every one of you.”

The young pastor looked up at the sky, smiled sarcastically, then winked at the rain clouds. “He,” the pastor yelled, as he pointed toward the sky, “always knows exactly what He’s doing. I had a rather lengthy eulogy planned, but our Father knows best. Let’s take a moment to pray silently and remember Lance in our own way.” 

All that was heard for the next few minutes was the sound of the rain on the casket and the ground around it. It amazed everyone except Pastor Smith, when, just as he was about to say ‘Amen’, the rain stopped. “I guess our Lord wanted me to shut up and let Him speak to each of our hearts,” he grinned at the crowd. “You were a good friend, Lance, we will miss you.” Before he dismissed the large group of mourners, he had one more thing to add. “I’ve been asked to tell you all that there will be food and fellowship at the Vecchio home, for all of you who wish to attend.”

As the group broke up, Renfield made a beeline for Lance’s parents. Kerri found it hard to keep up with him, as he strode across the lawn.

“Renny!” she whispered. “Please don’t –”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gregory? My name is Renfield Turnbull. Lance was our employee, and our friend.”

“My son was a faggot, Mr. Turnbull!”

Renfield and Kerri watched as Mrs. Gregory hung her head and began to cry.

“Yes, Sir, Lance was gay. And I’m Episcopalian, and my wife is a mother, and Ray here is…Ray is a police officer. Sir, we are all many things, and Lance was much more than just a gay man. He was one of the best friends my wife and I have. He was a loyal and trustworthy employee and a brilliant student. He had a fabulous career ahead of him. He loved children and took wonderful care of everyone’s pets. He was kind to everyone, especially the elderly. Why do you think Mrs. Vecchio is going to all the trouble of having all these people over to her home? She loved Lance, we all did.”

When Gregory’s countenance did not change, Renfield continued. “I’m terribly sorry for you if you did not know these things about your own son!” Kerri felt his body stiffen. “As I said, Sir, we are all many things. You, Sir, are a fool!” 

Renfield turned and strode away, taking the umbrella with him and causing Kerri to have to let go of his arm. She looked first at Mr. Gregory, and then at Lance’s mother, as it began to rain again. Looking pointedly at Mrs. Gregory, Kerri whispered, “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

Kerri had to struggle across the rain soaked ground to catch him. He had finally stopped on the edge of the driveway, facing away from the gravesites, but by the time she was able to reached him, Kerri was soaking wet and out of breath.

He turned around just before she was about to grab his arm. “I’m so sorry I lost my temper.” He shouted over the sound of the rain that had begun to pour again. “I seem to be doing that a lot, lately,” he muttered

“You know that since we’ve been together,” she yelled as the rain poured buckets on her, “you’ve made me very happy, and occasionally very sad. But I have never, NEVER, been prouder of you than I am at this moment.” Renfield looked at her with stunned, wide eyes. “What you said back there, that should have been Lance’s eulogy! It was beautiful.” 

“Really?” he grinned, relieved that she wasn’t angry with him. “I thought you’d be upset with me for losing my temper. And I ran off with the umbrella. You’re soaked! Get in the car before you catch cold!”

Renfield opened the door for her and then ran around to get in to the driver’s side. It had been a very long time since either one of them had seen it rain so hard.

“It’s really coming down,” Kerri said, as she tried to dry herself with tissues she found in the glove box.

“I wish it could wash away all that’s happened,” Renfield sighed.

“Renny, you remember what we promised each other after…well after Las Vegas?”

“That we’d never keep anything from each other again,” he answered, warily.

“Yes. I’m not going to force you to tell me about it now, but eventually I want you to share what happened with you and McGill. I don’t necessarily want to hear the gory details,” she shuddered, “but we both know how it helps us to talk about things.”

“Kerri, it’s not –”

“Renfield, sooner or later our life together is going to become commonplace, mundane, even boring. Until that time we only have each other to lean on. I want you to remember that, please?”

“Commonplace, mundane, boring. Doesn’t that sound wonderful!” he exclaimed. “But, it does seem that commonplace, mundane and boring wouldn’t make for nearly as interesting a story,” he mused, as they drove away from the cemetery.

Two months later

It was an unseasonably warm, late winter day. The sun was shining, and most of the snow was gone. When she’d seen a robin hopping across the deck, Sheila knew that it was time to be outside.

Limping slightly, she took her tea, carried in her good hand, and settled in the wicker swing on the front porch of the Malone’s house. In the shade it was still very cool, but the swing sat in full sun, so she was able to bask in the warmth.

From where she sat she could see the few vehicles that passed on the street, many of the drivers waving to her as they drove by. In the last few weeks she had become something of a celebrity in Stewartville, all of Mower County, for that matter. The Register, the Mower County newspaper, had run an article about her, calling her a hero for helping to thwart an arms sale to terrorists.

Of course, running her picture on the front page had effectively put an end to her undercover career. But that was fine with her. She had already decided that she was done with undercover work, long before Mr. Jeffers ever ran that picture.

She picked up the teacup and immediately felt the weakness in her hand. The casts on her hand and ankle had only been off for a day, so she knew she needed to give her muscles time to strengthen, but she was still just a little worried about ever being the same.

She had to wonder if she really wanted to be the same, though. She’d seen far too much of the evil that men can do to ever be the naïve, California surfer girl again. She thought of Angelo Morelli, René Laurier and Norman McGill, and shuddered. But then she smiled when she thought of Scott Foster, Renfield Turnbull, Benton Fraser and Ray. Especially Ray. 

The good in these men had triumphed over the evil in the others. That was what was important, and that was where she needed to concentrate her focus. She was smiling at the thought of Ray when the long, metallic green car pulled into the Malone’s driveway.

He was grinning like a schoolboy when he climbed out of the car and tiptoed through the puddles on the lawn, clutching something behind his back.

“Hiya, Honey!”

“Ray! I didn’t know you were coming this weekend!”

He climbed the steps and thrust a huge bouquet of spring flowers under her nose. “Had to come to bring you these. I saw them in a shop window and knew they were meant for you. Happy getting your casts off day!”

Sheila giggled. “That was yesterday.”

He kissed her briefly. “Yeah, but that was Friday, and I couldn’t get off work. But this is Saturday!” He plopped down on the swing and drew her into a great big hug. It was then he glimpsed a bouquet, very similar to his, through the large living room window. “Hey, that guy still trying to beat my time?”

Sheila giggled at him. “Jimmie has been so wonderful to me, everyone around here has. But he’s pretty special, he treats me like a queen. Aileen couldn’t take me to my doctor’s appointments yesterday, so Jimmie volunteered. It took almost all day, and all he wanted to know was if there was anything else he could do for me.” 

Ray looked at her and she could see the tired lines around his eyes. “You must have been driving all night.”

“Just to bring you flowers you already had.”

“A girl can never have too many flowers, Ray.”

Ray laughed, the deepest, most heartfelt laugh she had ever heard. “I missed you.”

“Ray, we talked about this. You’ve got to work, and I’ve got to recuperate. Although, Judy did say that she would release me as soon as I got the casts off.”

“You know you’ve been sick long enough when you start calling your doctor by her first name.” Ray leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the sun beat down on his face. “Man, what a day! Winter’s almost gone. Spring is just around the corner. Thank God!”

She watched him, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. “Ray?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

“I’m so sorry about Kerri and Renfield’s friend. I wish I’d been able –”

Ray’s eyes flew open as he raised his head. “Don’t you dare do that! You almost died,” he said, the word causing his throat to close around it, “trying to protect them! You did everything you could – and more! Don’t you dare try to second-guess yourself like that. I won’t have it.”

“What kind of car is that?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“That, my dear, is a 1971 Buick Riviera. Finest example of automotive workmanship ever to come out of Detroit. And Benny favorite car to destroy,” he muttered. He looked at her sideways, praying that she would have good taste in cars. “You do like it, don’t you?”

“It’s cool!” she gushed, as Ray breathed a sigh of relief.

“You got good taste, lady.” She reached for her teacup and Ray watched as she winced slightly. “How you feeling, and none of this ‘fine’ stuff? Tell me the truth.”

“Judy says it will take a while to strengthen the muscles, and Dr. Wilson, in Minneapolis, says I might have to have reconstructive surgery on my cheek bone, plus plastic surgery to repair the scars.”

When he saw the tears form at the corners of her eyes, he drew her gently to him. 

He continued to hold her for several moments before she began to speak. “I need to tell you…”

“What?” he asked, when she didn’t continue.

“About what happened with – with McGill.”

Ray tightened his hold on her slightly, in an attempt to offer reassurance. “You don’t have to do this –”

“Please, Ray, I want to get this out,” she sighed, while she gathered her courage. “He wasn’t mean, not bad, anyway, until after he broke out of prison. He’d always that this kind of Napoleon complex, I guess. But he never hurt me, until afterwards. I just couldn’t get away from him!” Ray could tell she was crying. “He just kept at me, until I began to believe I was the worthless bitch he kept calling me.”

“God damn him!” Ray muttered.

“Ray, I couldn’t stop him…we needed the information so badly…and he wouldn’t…even after…”

Ray stroked her hair, cropped severely short in the emergency room, and held her close.

“He hurt me. I tried to get him to stop, but…he wanted sex and he wanted pain. He needed to…to dominate me. He forced me… God! Ray, I’m so sorry!” She sobbed into his shoulder.

A few minutes later, after she had composed herself, she tried to finish. “I’m so ashamed of what I let him do to me. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to touch me again.”

“You sure are selling me short,” Ray responded.

“What?” she raised up to look at him.

“I’ve known what happened to you since the very first,” he whispered, tenderly. “The doc told me that she had to examine you…they thought you might have been raped. She said there was evidence of…of repeated abuse.” She hung her head in shame, but Ray would have none of it. He took her chin and gently raised it up so that he could look into her eyes. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” he whispered. “Even more because of what you tried to do to stop McGill.

“You remember how I told you that there was no one alive who could understand what you had to do, more than me? Honey, I’m not proud of the things I did as Armando Langoustini, either. You did, just as I did, what we had to do to.”

“But –”

“Are you trying to talk me out of loving you?” he smiled. 

“I guess I just don’t feel like…like I deserve your love.”

“Well, we can work on that. That’s kind of the reason I’m here.” He grinned at her. “Come back to Chicago with me? Bobby and Aileen love you, and they would let you stay here forever, but you need your own place, now that your casts are off and you can get around on your own. We want you there, all of us – Turnbull, Kerri, Fraser, and Meg and even Kowalski. Although he thinks you’re a crazy person for caring about me,” Ray’s smile grew even bigger. “And my ma – man does she wanna meet you!”

“And you?”

“Especially me!”

“Then, I guess I’ll be moving to Chicago,” she grinned at him. “Maybe the FBI would transfer me there. They do kinda owe me,” she thought out loud. “I’ve been talking to your sister, you know, she’s so nice and sweet,” she said enthusiastically, “and she said maybe she and I could get a place together –”

Ray jumped straight up out of the swing, causing it and Sheila to fly toward the house. “NO!”

The End


End file.
